


Bearing Point

by squirrel_loves_wings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2015, M/M, Mention Of Suicide Attempt, Mention of past Dean/Crowley, Top Castiel, Top Dean, mild drug use, non-MC domestic violence, some d/s sex, these tags make it sound grim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:25:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4943143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squirrel_loves_wings/pseuds/squirrel_loves_wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a contractor who's resigned himself to being alone. After buying Singer construction, he meets Cas Novak, a moody man who used to work with Bobby on historical home restorations. Dean starts to believe that maybe he won’t be alone forever. But Cas is keeping something from Dean and it could be enough to destroy their chance at a life together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Weird Guy

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2015 Dean/Cas Big Bang. Thanks to my fantastic betas Danielle and Vanessa. And a HUGE thanks to my artist who brought my words to life! Check out her stuff on [tumblr](http://horrorfemme1138.tumblr.com/Art) or [facebook](https://www.facebook.com/horrorfemme)!
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you have a ton of fun reading it!

[](http://imgur.com/2z3geGN)

 

 **Bearing point** \- _A point where a bearing or structural weight is concentrated and transferred to the foundation_

 

Dean sat down behind Bobby's desk and jiggled the mouse to wake his computer. He didn't think he would ever be able to think of this old monster of a desk as _his_ , even though it had technically been his for a little over a year. He'd practically grown up looking at Bobby behind this behemoth, running Singer Construction, but Bobby had finally wanted to retire and Dean had leapt at the chance to buy the business from his mentor. He didn't enjoy the drudgery of paying bills or taking care of payroll, he thought as he opened his financial software, but he wouldn't change where he was for the world. He'd worked construction since he was sixteen, earned a degree in architectural engineering from the University of Kansas at Bobby's urging, and bounced between working at construction companies and architectural design firms ever since. He’d always known he'd own his own outfit one day, he just hadn’t expected it to be quite so soon or that it would be his beloved Singer's.

He pulled the file on a gut job they were currently doing and started going through the sub contractors, entering fees. He was nearly done when the phone rang. He picked it up and tucked it between his ear and shoulder.

"Singer Construction," he answered, continuing to type. "This is Dean."

"Can I speak with Bobby, please," a voice grumbled and Dean shook his head.

"You're going to have to rack up some long distance charges if you want to do that. Bobby's retired. I think he's somewhere in Mexico right now."

"Oh." The man sounded disappointed. "I've worked with Bobby on several projects. I've got a new house I wanted him to look at."

"Well, I'm the new owner," Dean replied. He didn't want this guy to bolt just because Bobby was gone. "I've worked with Bobby for a lot of years and I'd be happy to take a look at that house for you."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line and Dean was about to say something, just to fill the silence and not let this guy get away, but then there was a disgruntled sigh. "Are you appropriately skilled?"

Dean's eyebrows shot up and his mouth worked, but no sound came out. Finally he got his tongue working and said, "Yes, sir, I am appropriately skilled." _Jesus that sounded dirty_. "I've worked with Bobby pretty much my entire life; he taught me everything I know. And I still work with the same sub contractors, so I can assure you you'd receive the same level of quality you're accustomed to."

"Alright," the man sighed again. "The address is [805 Ohio Street](https://www.google.com/maps/place/805+Ohio+St,+Lawrence,+KS+66044/@38.9691298,-95.2405947,3a,75y,274h,90t/data=!3m7!1e1!3m5!1skulq0mw17J1cxa2Z5MBQUg!2e0!6s%2F%2Fgeo0.ggpht.com%2Fcbk%3Fpanoid%3Dkulq0mw17J1cxa2Z5MBQUg%26output%3Dthumbnail%26cb_client%3Dsearch.TACTILE.gps%26thumb%3D2%26w%3D203%26h%3D100%26yaw%3D274.57391%26pitch%3D0!7i13312!8i6656!4m2!3m1!1s0x87bf6f4475185551:0x736ef291c9c5b46!6m1!1e1). When can you come by for a walkthrough?"

Dean grabbed his cell and pulled up his calendar. "I'm going to be over in that area tomorrow morning. Does eleven work for you?" He realized he didn't know they guy's name.

"Ummm… yeah, that'll work." There was a moment of silence and then the guy said, "Great, I'll see you tomorrow," and hung up.

"Ooookay…" Dean said as he put the phone back in its cradle. He would have liked to pull the guy's file, see what he'd worked on with Bobby, but there was no chance of that now. He pulled up his email instead and shot Bobby a quick message asking if "weird guy" brought to mind any names, and then got back to the budget.

An hour later, he stood and stretched, groaning at how tight his back felt. Too much desk time. He grabbed his jacket and left his office.

"Beth, I've got to head down to Chisolm Road and then I've got a meeting at Wakeman's that's going to take for fucking ever because the architect is an asshole. After that I'm going to go home and have a very large scotch."

"So, normal day, then," Beth said and Dean laughed and nodded.

"Pretty much. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Dean." He gave her a little salute as he walked out the door and pulled on his jacket. He'd be so glad when winter finally let go of its hold on Lawrence. He'd seen some flowers pushing their way up, seeking the sun, and knew the heat of summer couldn't be too far behind. It was kind of twisted, but he'd always enjoyed working on a site in summer, drenched with sweat, drywall dust sticking to his skin. Except that summer he'd spent roofing... he would happily never do that again.

He pulled himself into the cab of his Ford F-450 and started the engine. As he pulled out into traffic, he mentally reviewed the Chisolm site. There'd been a problem getting the marble they wanted for the kitchen and bath, but last they'd talked, Benny, his best foreman, had found something the owners had liked. The beam that allowed them to knock down the main walls on the first floor should have gone in today, as well as the French doors to the back yard. He wasn't particularly worried that anything would be awry – he trusted Benny's judgment and the man was almost more of a perfectionist than Dean when it came to a job being done right – but he still liked to show his face, keep tabs on how everything was running.

A short while later, he pulled up to the site and _crap_. The owner's car was here. Owners showing up in the middle of a job always spelled trouble; they always freaked out over how torn up everything was without being able to envision the final product. They nitpicked over things that didn't need to be nitpicked over. When he entered the worksite through the garage, he could hear Benny talking, explaining about the cabinets in the kitchen.

"But why are they like this?" Dean heard the owner ask. "They're not even."

"Don't worry Mr. Haverford, we're not done installing them yet. We had to put a hold on it in order to get out of the way so my guys could get the beam in," Benny said in his patient, friendly way and Dean once again thanked his lucky stars for him.

"But look," Haverford insisted again. "This one's almost half an inch higher than this one!"

Dean hung back as Benny explained, again, that the cabinets were currently uneven because one was fully installed but the other had yet to be secured to the wall.

"I promise you, Mr. Haverford, your cabinets will be perfectly level by the time we're done."

Dean heard Haverford grumble a little and finally strode into the kitchen.

"Mr. Haverford," he said brightly, pretending like he hadn't know the other man was there. "Good to see you."

"Mr. Winchester," Haverford replied. "I was just asking Mr. Lafitte about the cabinets here. They seem to be uneven."

"Hmm," Dean hummed, drawing his eyebrows down in concern as he moved toward the cabinets. After he passed Haverford he shot a wink toward Benny and then bent down. He made a show of seeing that the cabinets weren't level and jiggled the cabinets unnecessarily. He stood up and reached behind them and said, "Ah, here's the problem. One's been affixed to the wall but not the other."

"I was just explaining to Mr. Haverford that we had to stop installing the cabinets so we could install the beam," Benny said, calm as ever.

"Oh, that went in today!" Dean said with false excitement. "Mr. Haverford, I'm sure you'll be interested in seeing this." And with that, Dean effectively distracted Haverford away from the cabinets and Benny made a break for it, heading upstairs to check on the progress of the electrician.

Thirty minutes later he crept back into the kitchen and Dean waved him over from where he was standing in front of the French doors. "You can come in, it's safe."

"Thanks, brother," Benny laughed and then before Dean could say anything, "I know. They're coming back to fix it."

"How'd they even crack it in the first place?" Dean asked, running his fingers over the nearly split four by six that comprised the lintel.

"Damned if I know. I had to run out to Keller's to settle a disagreement about how much gravel they were delivering. When I got back, the door guys were gone and I saw _that_."

"And Keller's?" Dean prompted.

"Well, you know, I'm an organized SOB so I had a copy of the order with me."

Dean sighed. Keller's was the biggest sand and gravel operation around, but lately they'd been having problems with getting their orders correct. If they didn't get their shit together, Dean was going to have to dump them for someone who could do the job without issue.

"Alright. Good work. And good work handling Haverford."

Benny pulled a face. "Didn't even break a sweat with that one."

Dean finished his walk-through, pleased with the progress, and clapped Benny on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Benny. You've got it all under control, as usual," he said and Benny hiked a thumb over his shoulder.

"Boys're cleaning up now. Want to go grab a beer?" he asked.

Dean groaned. "I'd love to, but I've got a meeting at Wakeman's."

"That architect is an asshole," he said, making Dean laugh.

"Tell me about it. We'll grab that beer this weekend. You can tell me about that new girl you're seeing."

Benny smiled. "You got it, brother. Maybe you can tell me about some new guy…?"

"No can do," Dean said, shaking his head. "I haven't even been on a date since I bought this outfit."

"You gotta get out more, man," Benny said reproachfully and Dean shook his head.

"I'll see you later, Benny," he said pointedly and turned to leave.

"I'm gonna find you a nice man," Benny called after him. "See you settled down!"

Dean flipped him off over his shoulder and went back out to his truck. He wouldn't mind meeting someone, dating, settling down… but he didn't have any time. Running Singer took all his energy. And if he ever managed to have any left over, it was easy enough to use Grindr to satisfy any cravings. It was easier that way, less messy. Relationships eventually went awry, anyway.

That's what Dean told himself, at least, as he got back into his truck. He didn't need a relationship; he could look out for himself. He'd done so for the last thirty-three years of his life, he would continue on just fine in the same vein.

Those thoughts drew him to his impending meeting at Wakeman's and with their architect, Crowley. Dean's teeth ground unconsciously at the thought. He and Crowley had dated for almost eight months before he'd called it quits. The sex had been fucking fantastic – Crowley was a kinky, sadistic bastard, which suited Dean just fine – and the accent had been nice, but Crowley just couldn't switch off being an asshole. Dean found himself constantly apologizing for the other man's rudeness and that's when he knew he had to end things. Crowley, of course, still liked to make off color jokes about their time together, even though it had been over a year since they'd broken up.

But Dean hated meeting with him for more than just that reason. Crowley wasn't just an asshole, he was a _raging dick_ who refused to entertain the fact that anyone might have a better design idea than him. And he seemed especially fond of forgetting that Dean had an architectural engineering degree and several years' experience working in architectural firms. As such, meetings with him were extremely tedious and Dean wasn't particularly up for it tonight, any and all history aside. But the meeting was scheduled and they needed to get the project moving, so he'd just have to put on his big boy pants and deal with it.

When he walked into Wakeman's office, guarded and geared up for a fight, he was surprised to see a petite brunette sitting at the table.

"Jody?" he asked, confused, and the woman looked up. She broke into a huge smile when she saw Dean and hurried over to him.

Dean scooped her up in a huge hug. She laughed breathlessly in his ear and slapped him on the back.

"Can't breathe!"

Dean put her down, laughing. "You moved to North Dakota!" he accused. "Partner in some swanky real estate firm!"

"I did," she nodded. "And I was. But they were a bunch of dicks. I know lawyers aren't the life of any party, but these guys gave new meaning to the word dour. So I decided to come back home and start my own firm."

Dean punched her in the arm. "And you didn't tell me?"

She made a big show of rubbing where he'd hit her. "I've been back for a week, Winchester. Relax."

"Well, if it isn't my two favorite people," Crowley greeted, stepping up to them out of seemingly nowhere.

Jody and Dean turned identical looks on him. Jody had been on one spectacularly bad date with him. In fact, one of the reasons Dean had agreed to go on a date with him was because he couldn't believe it could be as bad had Jody said. It wasn't, but by the end of their relationship, Dean fully believed Jody's story.

Cowley faked a shudder. "Bit chilly in here." He looked between them. "Come on, can't we be friends? Let bygones do their thing?"

"Last time I checked, Fergus, we weren't the problem," Dean said pleasantly, enjoying the minute scowl on Crowley's face at Dean's use of his first name.

"Now, that's not fair, Dean," Crowley said, putting his hands in his pocket. "I was thinking of you just last night. Triplets. Magical experience."

Dean made a disgusted noise and rolled his eyes. He turned back to Jody and together they made their way to the conference table.

"He's such a sleaze," Jody mumbled as she took a seat next to Dean.

"I still can't believe I dated him as long as I did," Dean said, even though he knew exactly why he'd put up with Crowley for so long, why he still sometimes said yes when Crowley asked. "I still feel pangs of second hand embarrassment when I'm around him."

"I think we all do," Jody agreed as Ash walked into the conference room.

The lead engineer on the project took his seat and ran his hand back through his hair before smoothing it along his ponytail. Dean always thought he'd made his peace with Ash's mullet, but every time Ash played with the ponytail in the back, he had a near irresistible urge to cut it off. Frankly, though, it was the least of Ash's quirks, and he was the best engineer on the continent, so they all put up with him. Even Crowley.

The meeting turned out to be a lot of fun in the way that it somehow devolved into them all yelling at each other but actually getting a lot accomplished anyway. Dean supposed it was a side effect of the fact that they'd all known each other way too long. When they finally decided to call it quits, Dean was flushed with adrenaline, feeling more energized than he had in a while. He was packing up his bag when Crowley sidled up next to him.

"Dean," he said, his voice low and full of gravel. It shot straight to Dean's groin. "You look like you have some energy to burn off. What say you let me help you out with that?"

Dean swayed toward him slightly because he _did_ have energy to burn and suddenly laid out on Crowley's bed, completely at his mercy, seemed like a fantastic way to take care of it. But fuck, he'd sworn to himself he wasn't going to do this again; he always hated himself in the aftermath. But the promise in Crowley's eyes, the memories of what he did to Dean, made him say yes every time. He licked his lips, trying to form the word no, because Crowley had that cocky little smirk on his face and he _hated_ it. But he also knew that Crowley would be wearing that same little smirk when he made Dean come for the third time and so he'd just taken a breath to say yes when he heard someone calling his name.

He looked around and saw Jody standing there, briefcase strap slung over her shoulder, hand on her hip, and a fiercely arched eyebrow. "Winchester. You're taking me out for a welcome back drink. Come on." When Dean just looked at her stupidly, her brow drew down. "You better not be thinking of backing out."

Dean finally pulled his mind from thoughts of what Crowley could be doing to him and back to the present. He shook his head. "No, no. Not backing out. Just packing up." He turned to look at Crowley, who'd lost the smirk, and felt relief and regret wind through his gut. Jesus, why did he keep saying yes to this asshole? And thank god for Jody stopping him this time. "Sorry," he said, ashamed by the fact that he actually did feel a little sorry. "I promised I'd take Jody out."

Crowley nodded but it was clear he didn't believe it for a second. "Maybe next time, love."

He watched Crowley's retreating back for a moment and then picked up his case and turned to leave with Jody.

"Thank you," he breathed once they were outside.

"I've had an ex or two with that kind of sway over me. I was happy to help. But I'm serious about that drink."

Dean thought about begging off, but he knew if he did he'd just go home and drink alone and feel shitty about his interaction with Crowley, so he nodded. "Roadhouse?"

"Wow, that shit hole's still in business?" Jody asked, laughing, and Dean grinned.

"Don't let Ellen hear you say that," Dean warned. "Do you remember the way?"

"With as many times as we walked home drunk from that place? Yeah, I'll never forget how to get there."

"Alright, I'll see you there." Dean walked to where his truck was parked and tossed his satchel onto the passenger seat before he got in. It was such a great surprise to see Jody. They'd first met in their required composition class freshman year at KU, and had been inseparable for the rest of their undergraduate careers. They'd remained close after graduation, but the inevitable drifting apart had happened as Dean's work had taken more of his time and Jody moved away to Gainesville to get her law degree. They'd kept in touch over email, but they no longer knew practically everything about one another like they had in college. Dean hadn't thought much about losing touch with Jody, but now, remembering how close they'd been, how she'd just rescued him from a stupid mistake, he felt himself mourning the loss of years.

 _Christ_ , he thought to himself as he turned the ignition key. He hadn't even had anything to drink yet. He needed to be careful or he was going to turn maudlin tonight.

The Roadhouse was just as it was most every weeknight, thumping with tunes from the jukebox and filled with regulars. Dean met Jody in the parking lot and then secured her in a booth before heading to the bar.

"Jo," he called to the bartender, but she ignored him. "JO!" he shouted the next time she breezed by.

"Oh, Dean, I didn't see you there," she said casually and Dean grinned.

"You're hurtin' me Joanna Beth," Dean drawled. Jo and his brother Sam had practically grown up together, and Jo had grown up with an unfortunate crush on Dean. They'd tried dating when Dean was trying to be straight, but it hadn't gone well, especially since they'd dated right at the very end of Dean's crumbling hetero identity. Unfortunately, Jo had borne the brunt of it and Dean still felt bad about how he'd treated her, even though he'd apologized a thousand times. Eventually they'd forged a new relationship and Dean loved her like a little sister.

"Aw, let me find my violin," Jo said and Dean flipped her the bird. She laughed and grabbed his hand, using it to pull herself over the bar to kiss his cheek. "What'll it be?"

Dean ordered two shots and two beers. He and Jody used to be able to demolish half a dozen shots and beers back in the day, but he figured that Jody had probably slowed down like he had. Damn, they were getting old.

He carried their drinks back to their table and Jody grinned. "You do me well, Dean!" she shouted and grabbed her shot. " _Ingemisco, tamquam reus_ …" she said lifting her glass and Dean hesitated only a moment.

He and Jody and their whole cadre of friends had been in the symphonic choir together, mostly because it had been an easy A, and they sometimes got to be on Lawrence public radio. One year, when Dean had been a sophomore, they'd done the Duruflé Requiem and Dean thought it was the most glorious music he'd ever heard. They'd latched onto this line, though, _Ingemisco, tamquam reus; culpa rubet vultus meus_ , as particularly funny and recited it to one another as often as they could. It meant, _I moan as one who is guilty: owning my shame with a red face_. They had all taken it at its blatant face value, but for Dean – who'd had his first gay sex experience somewhere in the middle of the rehearsal period – the joke had felt pointed, even if his friends hadn't meant it that way. He'd smiled through it and made the joke with them. Eventually, it stopped feeling personal – mostly because when he'd come out to all of his friends, nothing between them changed – and it was just a crass sexual joke that they all took part in.

Dean lifted his glass and finished the toast. " _Culpa rubet vultus meus_. I can't believe we remember that," he said with a laugh.

"We thought it was the most hilarious thing we'd ever heard," Jody remembered, smiling, and then knocked back her shot. She waited until Dean had finished his and said, "So, Crowley..."

Dean shook his head and avoided answering by draining half his beer.

"Not talking about it. This is your welcome back. Welcome," he said with a wide expanse of his arms. "Tell me the whole story."

She made a face like this conversation wasn't over and then launched into an abbreviated story of her life so far.

"Why didn't you set up shop in Sioux Falls?" Dean asked when Jody fell silent. "You could have stayed with that guy, Mark. It sounded like you had something good going."

She sighed. "I got scared. Ran away. You know the story." She finished her beer and then fixed her eye on Dean. "How about you? Why don't you have a man?"

"Pretty sure I said I'm not talking about it," he said with his most disarming smile. "Besides, you've seen the state of my love life. It's not pretty."

"In all of Lawrence, there has to be a man for you."

Dean shrugged. "I'm not really looking. I'm busy with Singer's. Relationships are complicated."

"You're not fooling me, Winchester," Jody countered. "You've always been a nester. You want to settle down with someone, and cook together, and cuddle, and all that domestic shit."

"You make it sound so appealing when you say it like that," Dean laughed. But if he was being truthful with himself, he _did_ want to settle down with someone. But, he had never met anyone that he could remotely see himself living with for the long term. He didn't really feel like he belonged in that apple pie life, anyway. He wasn't cut out for it, despite how much he wanted it. "I'm only thirty-three as it is. I’ve got some time." He took a sip of his beer but when Jody opened her mouth he swallowed quickly and pointed at her. "No. You are not setting me up. Never ever."

"You're no fun," she whined and Dean leaned forward.

"If you think it's such a great idea, how 'bout you let me set you up? I can think of a couple of guys right off."

Dean wasn't surprised when Jody shook her head. "I'm not ready to hit the market, yet. Besides, all my time is going into building my lawyering business."

"Now how come that's supposed to be a legitimate excuse when you use it?" Dean asked and Jody smiled.

"Because this time, I'm the one saying it."

Their conversation meandered from there, reminiscing about college, talking about old friends, their businesses. They shared another round of drinks and some food once Dean realized he'd never eaten dinner and was starving. Dean also realized he didn't do this enough, go out with friends, unwind, get out of his own head. Sitting here, catching up with Jody, was the most relaxed he'd felt in months. When the night ended and he was on his way home, he promised himself he'd do it more. He wouldn't constantly beg off.

When he got home, he tossed his jacket over the back of a dining room table chair and went through his mail humming Zeppelin under his breath, before heading to his bedroom to change. He crashed in front of the TV, half watching a cheesy horror flick, half dicking around on his laptop. He watched a couple of videos on men.com and then headed to bed to jerk off. It was quick, perfunctory and he absolutely didn't think about Crowley. After he cleaned up, he wrapped himself up in the covers and fell fast asleep.

:::::::

The next morning flew by. He was up at six for a run, took a hurried showed, ate an even more hurried breakfast, and hauled ass to his first meeting with an architect at a total gut job in the Old West historic district. After that, it was a quick drive to his meeting with the ‘weird guy’. Bobby had never emailed him back with any possible leads, which Dean took to mean that Bobby was having a lot of fun in retirement.

He parked behind a rough looking 80’s era [Jeep Wagoneer](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/76/Jeep_Grand_Wagoneer_001.JPG) in front of 805 Ohio Street and stepped down from his truck. He pulled out his portfolio and then trotted up the walk to the front door, which was standing open.

"Hello," he called as he stepped into the entryway. "It's Dean Winchester from Singer Construction."

He heard someone moving upstairs and a second later a man came jogging down the stairs. He was wearing dark wash jeans and brown boots, a dark grey t-shirt and a dark green corduroy jacket. Even though it was only eleven in the morning, the guy had a heavy scruff on his face. His hair was dark and thick and stuck out from his head like someone had just had their hands in it. His sunglasses were nestled in the mess. All in all, Dean had to try not to stare because _holy cow_ , this guy might be weird but he was fucking _hot_.

"Hey, hi," the client said. "I was just checking some things out. Thanks for meeting with me."

Dean blinked because this guy didn't bear much resemblance to the one he'd talked to the other day. This man was affable and a little awkward, and had the most amazing blue eyes. "Yeah, sure, my pleasure. You know, I never caught your name when we spoke on the phone."

"Oh, sorry. Castiel Novak," he said and held out his hand.

Dean shook it and hoped his smile wasn't too dopey because Jesus, this guy was smokin'. "Great to meet you, Mr. Novak. So, what are you looking at doing here?"

"Ah," Castiel said, his face lighting up as he looked around and _god dammit_ Dean could already feel the crush forming. "This house was built in 1884, right as this neighborhood was really coming into fashion. Since then, it's had five owners and undergone a number of renovations." Castiel had started walking as he talked and Dean trailed behind him, already seeing where this was going and making mental notes.

"Some of the renovations were poorly done," Castiel continued. "And some were well done but not at all appropriate for the period of the house. The main bath upstairs has glass blocks. Glass blocks, Dean," he said in a horrified tone of voice and Dean smiled.

"Glass blocks need to stay in the eighties, where they belong," he agreed.

"Exactly. So, I want you to help me restore this place to its former glory."

"Are you planning to flip or live here?" Dean asked.

"Flip it. I just love bringing these beauties back to life." Castiel was looking around lovingly at the house and Dean couldn't help but smile.

"You said you worked with Bobby on a few jobs. He did restorations with you?"

Castiel nodded. "It's been a while since I've done one. I…" He shrugged, trailing off.

Dean waited for him to continue, but when it didn't seem like that was going to happen he cleared his throat. "So, Mr. Novak," he started, but Castiel's eyes fixed on him, losing their faraway look.

"Call me Cas. I don't really go in for formalities."

Dean felt his crush intensify. _Fuck_. "Alright, Cas. Want to start this walkthrough? Show me what you're thinking?"

Cas’ eyes lit up. "Yeah. Let's start upstairs."

They walked through the house, Cas detailing everything he wanted to do, Dean jotting down notes, and offering some alternatives when he could see immediately that what Cas wanted wasn't going to work. They spent a long time going through the interior of the house before heading outside. There was a surprising amount to be done both inside and out and Dean thrilled at the chance to flex his architectural muscles again after a lot of project management. He could already tell that he was going to be heavily involved in this project, getting his hands dirty. He and Cas talked animatedly about everything, Dean's mind going a million miles an hour at who he'd need to bring in and where he was going to source the materials from, because Cas wasn't kidding around. He wanted to get period stuff wherever he could, including the woodwork and floors. Dean was really pretty jazzed about the whole thing; he hadn't had a project this interesting since he’d bought Singer.

It was a little after one by the time they finished talking. They were sitting on the steps of the front porch and Dean was writing down a few more things, getting Cas' contact information since the guy was a little flaky.

"Alright," Dean said finally. "Let me get back to the office and get in touch with some people, see if they're available and then price everything out. I can get back to you on… Let's say Monday with a quote."

Cas nodded shortly. He'd gotten progressively more quiet the last half hour and now he sat there, lips pressed into a tight line. "Monday will be fine. For the tile work, Bobby used to work with Tripoli. They do superior work to anyone else I've worked with. Since tile is going to be an important part of the design, I want you to use them."

Ah, here was the guy Dean had talked to on the phone. Maybe the moodiness was a blood sugar thing. Dean himself was famished and planned on inhaling a large Italian sub from Garth's as soon as humanly possible. But he wrote Tripoli where Cas could see, just to make him feel better, even though Dean had already planned on using them. "Tripoli is definitely the best around. Rufus is a good man."

"If we're done here, I have another appointment I'm running late for," Cas said, standing, and Dean followed suit. He missed the Cas from earlier this morning.

"I think I have everything I need. If I need clarification on anything, I'll give you a call."

"Please do," Cas nodded as he turned to lock up the house. They walked together to the street where they were both parked and Dean held out his hand.

"It was a pleasure meeting you Cas and I'm really looking forward to working on this project." When Cas clasped his hand, his skin felt flushed and clammy. Dean looked at his face more closely, but Cas had already slipped his sunglasses over his eyes and Dean only saw his own face reflected in the lenses.

"Me too," Cas said, a little of the tension leaving his body as he looked back at the house. "It's going to be a beauty."

They said their goodbyes and went to their respective trucks. Cas was still sitting in his when Dean pulled away from the curb and when he looked in his rearview mirror he could see Cas sitting behind the wheel, his elbow propped against the window, his hand over his eyes. Maybe he was coming down with something, Dean thought, considering how hot Cas' hand had been.

Dean drove to Garth's and ordered his lunch, scrolling through emails on his phone while he waited. He dealt with a couple of easy things, starred a couple of things that would need his attention when he got back to the office, and then closed out his email. He'd just finished when the girl behind the counter called his name. He grabbed his sub and headed out, unwrapping it and eating as he drove to the office. He could see what kind of day this was going to be and he wasn't wrong. They were slammed all day dealing with subcontractor issues, new inquiries, and problems with current jobs.

Benny called him at one point, and instead of saying hello, started with, "If I kill him and hide his body in the wall no one will know, right?"

Dean didn't need to ask to know that Benny was talking about Haverford. "Well, I hate to tell you, but yes, they probably would." Benny heaved a huge sigh. "Do I need to come down?"

"Nah, brother, I know you've got plenty of other things to deal with. I just wanted to hear a sane voice. This guy is driving me fucking insane."

For Benny to lose his cool, Dean knew that Haverford must have been making a huge nuisance of himself. "I'll call him, convince him not to crash the site anymore."

"Good luck with that," Benny grumbled. "But I'd mightily appreciate it if you could."

"No promises, but I'll do my best." He paused and then said, "I know it's only Thursday, but let's go out tonight and get shit-faced."

Benny laughed. "You're reading my mind, brother." They arranged to meet at the Roadhouse and Dean hung up, already turning to deal with the next issue. By the time he'd finally wrapped up everything he could it was nearly quarter to seven and he had to hustle to meet Benny on time.

As it was, Benny was already sitting at the bar when Dean walked in.

"No, no, don't wait," Dean said as he slid onto a stool, eyeing Benny's burger.

"You know I get hangry,” Benny said with an unapologetic smile and took a bite. Dean swiped a french fry.

"Did it take long for Haverford to leave after we talked?" Dean asked and Benny gave him serious side-eye.

"That man tries my patience like few people do. Did you talk to him?"

"I did," Dean said coyly.

Benny put down his burger. "And?"

"And I explained to him that he was slowing things down because we can't do any real work while he's there because we can't risk him getting hurt. I might have let him believe that his continued interference would extend the timeline for a few weeks. I might have even inferred that those delays would cost him a lot of money."

"Did he buy it?" Benny asked hopefully.

Dean paused to order loaded nachos, a shot of whiskey for Benny and himself, and a beer.

"I don't think the visits will stop completely, but they shouldn't be a daily thing anymore," Dean said and laughed at Benny's relieved expression.

"You are the best boss a guy could hope for," Benny claimed and toasted Dean with his beer. Dean had met Benny a little over five years ago while he was working with another construction outfit; Benny had just moved to Lawrence from Louisiana and they'd taken a shine to one another pretty quickly. When Dean bought Singer's, he immediately hired Benny away from the outfit he'd been working for. Now Dean counted Benny among his closest friends.

Dean's food came and Benny shook his head. "Nachos aren't dinner, brother."

"I beg to differ," Dean argued, dumping the little pots of sour cream, guacamole, and salsa on top of the mound of chips. "Picked up a new contract today. Restoration in Old West. It'll be a big job."

"Am I on it?" Benny asked, but Dean shook his head.

"No, I think I'm going to do this one myself."

Benny was silent, but Dean could feel the question radiating off him. When he looked up Benny's face had that look of serene amusement, one eyebrow cocked.

"What?" he asked and Benny's other eyebrow went up.

"When exactly are you going to find the time to supervise a job directly?"

Dean shrugged. "I'll make it work." Benny was still looking at him. "What?!"

"Just curious."

"I'm going to get to do some architectural work. And I've kind of missed getting my hands dirty."

Benny clearly thought there was more to the story but he just nodded and changed the subject. They talked and drank for a long time until Benny drunkenly slid off his stool.

"It's time for me to head home," he slurred. Dean was jealous that Benny could walk home from here.

"I'm going to hang out and sober up a little," he said and Benny clapped him on the shoulder.

"Have a good night, man."

Dean pulled out his phone after Benny left and started up Grindr. He wasn't sure he wanted to hook up with someone, but he wasn't sure he _didn't_ either. And if there was someone close by, it'd be a good way to kill time until he felt okay enough to drive. By happy coincidence, there was someone in the Roadhouse… and he was cute. Dean pinged him and waited for a reply. A few minutes later a guy took the stool next to him.

"Your boyfriend leave?" the guy asked and Dean shook his head.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Too bad. He's hot."

"He is. He's also straight."

They guy made a 'too bad' face and then held out his hand. "I'm Aaron."

"Dean," Dean said, shaking the guy's hand. He leaned in and pitched his voice low. "I'm not up for actually driving anywhere, but I would love to take you out back and suck your dick."

Aaron pressed his thigh against Dean's. "That sounds fantastic."

Dean liked these little hookups because they were easy and they left him feeling loose the way only an orgasm could. But – he reflected a half hour later as he climbed into his truck – they also left him vaguely unsatisfied, wanting more. Still, the guy had given great head and now Dean was sober enough to drive home. It wasn't a terrible arrangement.

Once home, Dean took a quick shower and fell into bed. Before he realized he was thinking about blue eyes, he was asleep.


	2. Abatement Issues

Three weeks later, Dean showed up at 805 Ohio Street bright and early to make sure the work all got off to a good start. Cas' Wagoneer was already there and Dean smiled. He was an odd duck and occasionally moody and grouchy, but Dean still liked him. And though Cas was still devastatingly gorgeous, Dean's crush had faded to mere background noise because Cas was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, straight. He'd offhandedly mentioned his ex-wife during one of their many planning meetings, and Dean had let himself feel disappointed for exactly five seconds before tucking it away in that corner of his mind at which he never looked.

Dean parked his truck and made his way to the back door.

"Hey Cas, it's Dean! Where're you at?"

"Upstairs!" Cas shouted and then there was a loud crash. Dean grinned and took the stairs two at a time because he knew what was happening and he wanted to see it. Cas’ passionate hatred of the glass blocks in the main bath had been apparent since their first meeting, but through their further meetings, Dean had realized that hatred wasn't exactly the right word for how Cas felt about the blocks. ‘Fervent abhorrence’ came closer to capturing it. He felt they were an abomination, a blight on everything beautiful that existed in the world. Dean had laughed hysterically the first time Cas had really gone off about the blocks. They were standing in the main bath, talking about what it would take to restore the window to its original shape, when the sun had caught in the blocks and made the light refract through the room. Cas had snarled, actually _snarled_ , and then started ranting again about the blocks. Dean had just stared at him because could anyone seriously be that angry about glass blocks? But apparently Cas was. The tirade just went on and on until Dean had needed to sit on the toilet because he was laughing so hard, tears streaming down his face. Cas’ look had been so reproachful that it had just made Dean laugh harder.

He turned the corner, grinning, ready for the entertainment of Cas taking out all his hatred of the glass blocks on the wall of them in the bath, but as soon as he saw Cas he froze. Cas was in his usual jeans and boots, but he was wearing a tank top instead of a t-shirt or button down and Dean got a full and perfect view of the muscles in Cas’ shoulders and back flexing as he swung the sledgehammer. There was another loud crash as part of the wall of blocks fell and Cas turned to grin at him.

 

"Wow that's satisfying," he beamed, and Dean laughed.

"Leave something for the demo guys," he said, desperately trying not to be distracted by how tight the tank was and how he could see how lithe and lean Cas’ chest and torso were. Then Cas grinned again, his nose wrinkling in that completely adorable way, and Dean cursed himself because the crush was supposed to be almost over, not flaring back to life.

“Oh no," Cas said. "This piece of shit is all mine."

He turned back to the glass block wall, swinging the sledgehammer again and Dean indulged himself, letting his gaze travel over Cas’ shoulders again and down the long line of his back. He knew he should stop himself, he'd already objectified Cas enough, but he couldn't. His eyes slipped lower, admiring first how thick and strong Cas’ thighs were before traveling up to the very luscious curve of his ass. He wondered what Cas would taste like, what he would sound like if Dean took him apart with his tongue, what his thighs would feel like wrapped around Dean's waist while Dean kissed him senseless. Dean had gotten them flipped in his imagination so that Dean was on his back, Cas’ weight pressing him into the mattress, when he realized the room was silent. He looked up abruptly and saw, to his horror, that Cas was looking at him. He flushed a deep red and pushed away from the doorjamb, starting to stammer an apology. Jesus, how could he have been so unprofessional? Cas would want a new foreman for sure, maybe even go so far as to break their contract. His mind was so caught up with all the possibilities for how this could go horribly wrong that he didn't hear Cas calling him until Cas’ hand gripped his arm.

"Dean," he said again and Dean's eyes shifted to Cas’. Dean could feel that his face was still flushed red and he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. He swallowed convulsively, knowing that he needed to apologize, but unable to actually make his mouth work properly. He just kept stammering like an idiot. "Dean, it's okay," Cas said, shaking Dean a little. "Relax, it's okay."

That at least calmed him enough to blurt, "Cas, Jesus, I'm sorry." He didn't even try to deny it. Cas had caught him red handed.

"Sorry for what?" Cas asked, a small smile tugging at his lips. "There are worse things than being checked out."

Dean laughed, immeasurably grateful that Cas was being cool about this. "It was wildly unprofessional."

Cas shrugged. "It's not the first time I've been checked out by another man. It's not even the first time I've been checked out by another man on a worksite." He leaned in slightly and Dean's breath hitched. "You might be the hottest one to do so, though."

"What?" Dean said, his voice about an octave higher than usual.

Cas stepped back and finally let go of Dean's arm. He gestured to the glass block wall with his head. "I'm going to finish this up. You're welcome to stay and watch, but you might have some other things to get to."

Dean felt himself flush again and he started to back out of the bathroom. He tripped over his feet and stumbled, caught himself. "Yeah, I've got…" He laughed nervously. "I'll just…" And then he turned and fled, his face burning with embarrassment. He definitely didn't run out of the house and he _definitely_ didn't have a mini panic attack on the porch. What the fuck had just happened? Had Cas just _flirted_ with him? That wasn't possible. Cas had been married. He was still trying to process what had just happened when the demo crew arrived.

Dean scrubbed his hands through his hair and resolved not to think about this again. _Ever_. He turned toward the crew and welcomed them into the house. He took half the crew around downstairs, showed them what needed to be taken down and then took the other half upstairs. After he'd shown them what needed to be done he walked back through the master bedroom against his better judgment and stopped by the en suite. Cas was shoveling glass blocks into a wheelbarrow to drop them down the chute and into the dumpster that had been set up yesterday. He was sweating now and Dean noticed that his hair curled at the nape of his neck, sticking with sweat. Dean wanted to taste him. But he wasn't thinking about that.

He cleared his throat. "Crew's here if you want someone to clean that up for you."

Cas looked up and smiled. "Nah, it's fine. Won't take me but a couple of trips to get it all to the dumpster."

"Okay. I'm gonna head down and help the boys."

"Alright," Cas said, his eyebrows up, still smiling, and Dean realized that Cas was _indulging_ him.

He scowled and turned and left the bathroom. Dean wasn't going to pant after Cas like some little puppy. Anyhow, Cas was _straight_. Except for when he flirted with Dean. Maybe he didn't even realize how what he'd said had come across, but Dean shook his head unconsciously at that as he trotted down the stairs. Cas had known exactly what he was doing which could only mean one of two things: he wasn't entirely straight or he was playing with Dean. Dean really hoped it wasn't the latter because that would make Cas a shitty person. He'd only known the guy for a month, but he really didn't think that was true. But what the hell was he doing thinking about this? He wasn't going to again. _Ever_.

When he walked into the kitchen he saw that the cabinet guys had arrived and were busy taking out the old ones. Dean picked up a sledgehammer and helped in taking down a wall, pointedly not thinking about Cas, sweaty and gorgeous upstairs.

Dean stayed at the site for as long as he could, but he had other things he needed to do. He stopped by a couple of other sites on his way to the office and was greeted by Beth with a stack of messages when he got there.

"It's been a shit-storm, boss," she said. "Masters came by, demanding that you reimburse her for materials for the 552 Westwood job."

"She never even…!" Dean started and then clamped his jaw shut and groaned. "What else?"

Beth listed a few other things and then dropped into the chair across from Dean. "I saved the worst for last."

Dean propped his elbows on his desk and rubbed his eyes roughly. "Hit me."

"Alastair came by and threatened to revoke a dozen permits."

Dean pulled his hands away from his face and from the way Beth cringed he knew his expression must be thunderous. "Why?"

"Bullshit reasons. Incomplete paperwork, abatement issues, baiting."

Dean slammed his fist down on the desk and stood up, kicking his chair so hard it flew across the office and bounced off the wall. "That motherfucker," he snarled. Dean was livid. He paced the office, thinking about what recourse he might have. Frank Alastair had it in for Dean and, though he didn't have any concrete proof, Dean knew it was because he was gay. The snide little comments Alastair made when only Dean could hear was all the proof he needed. And since Alastair was the head of the licensing division, the only person Dean could appeal to was the building commissioner and Dick Roman was a royal dick.

"Alright. Well, let's start pulling the paperwork for the jobs he's targeting," Dean sighed. "I'm going to draft a letter to the city council about this harassment. It won't do anything but at least I'll have something on record. Maybe Alastair will get hit by a bus in the meantime."

"We can always hope," Beth agreed. "And I've already started pulling the paperwork and making copies.”

Dean retrieved his chair from where it had rolled and brought it back to his desk. "Thanks, Beth. What would I do without you?"

"You wouldn't have made it this long, that's for sure," she said as she left the office. Dean chuckled. He'd known Beth practically his entire life, had begged her to stay when he bought Singer's, and she was right; he certainly wouldn't have gotten this far without her help.

He drafted his letter to the city council, letting all his anger out, and then saved and closed it. He would certainly rewrite almost all of it, but it had felt good to get it all out. He turned his attention to other things that needed to get done and didn't come up for air until Beth sat a stack of papers down on his desk.

"These are the jobs Alastair's targeting."

"Great," Dean sighed and picked them up to flip through them, but Beth put her hand on them and pushed them back down to the desk.

"And it's five thirty. A little after, actually."

"Shit," Dean said and grabbed the files, his briefcase, and his jacket before hustling out the door, yelling a goodbye to Beth. He wanted to get back over to Cas’ site and see how the work was going before they closed up for the day. He was glad to see that everyone was still there when he pulled up. He went inside and was pleased by the progress that had been made, but he frowned at the framing that was still up in the living room.

He turned to find the crew master and found Cas instead. His hair was even more of a mess than usual, spiked with sweat, and he was covered with a fine coat of grit except around his eyes where he'd been wearing safety goggles.

"It's load bearing," he said without preamble, looking at the studs.

Dean had to tear his eyes away from Cas, whose muscles after a day of heavy lifting had gotten more cut. Dean wanted to put his hand on the defined V of his deltoid and then run it down his chest, over his pec. He licked his lips and looked at the framing.

"That's going to be a big beam if you want to go that way," Dean observed.

"I do. I think an engineered steel beam is probably the way to go, rather than wood." Cas stepped forward and looked up into space between the floors. "We should be able to recess it completely so the ceiling remains one continuous surface. That plumbing there is going to be moved, so it won't be a problem."

Dean moved next to Cas and looked up. He could smell Cas – a warm, masculine scent – and he moved away because it was causing warmth to pool in his groin and all he really wanted to do was lean in and press his face into Cas’ neck to breathe him in.

"The plumber's going to be here tomorrow. I'll have him start on this first. Guys get everything out of the bathroom upstairs?"

"Yeah. Actually, come upstairs, I want to run something by you."

Dean followed Cas upstairs, trying not to look at Cas’ ass and pretty much failing miserably. _Jesus, get ahold of yourself, Dean_ , he told himself and drug his gaze off of Cas’ perfect body.

Cas wanted to talk about taking some room from the hall bath to add some square footage to the relatively small master. As they talked, Dean could see tension working its way into Cas’ shoulders, into the small muscles around his eyes. After a half hour, he could see that Cas was in some discomfort, his movements guarded and slow, not fluid like Cas usually moved.

Dean was going to keep his mouth shut, but when Cas pointed to something and winced, Dean couldn't hold back the question.

"Are you okay, man?" He saw the muscle in Cas’ jaw jump as the other man clenched his teeth. Sensitive subject, then. "Sorry, never mind. You just… never mind."

"I broke my back," Cas said abruptly. "A little over a year ago. I fell off a ladder. I, uh… I had surgery to repair it but it still…." He rolled his shoulders. "Sometimes, after a long day."

Dean turned more fully to face Cas, ready to ask if Cas should be working on the site like he was, but Cas looked at him, his face stormy.

"Don't," he snapped. "I'm fine. I know my limits." Dean didn't think swinging a fifty-pound sledgehammer and then shoveling up the debris fell within the things that someone who'd broken his back should be doing. It must have shown on his face because Cas pressed his lips together and blew out a breath from his nose. "This is why I don't tell anyone. I'm not a delicate flower, Dean. I can still work."

Cas was obviously pissed so Dean held up his hands. "Dude, I just asked if you were okay."

Cas just grunted, as if that were an acceptable answer, and turned back to the wall. "Let me know if you think this is feasible. I'll see you in the morning." Then he brushed past Dean and was gone. Dean turned and looked after him, wondering how that had gone from friendly to angry so quickly. He wondered why Cas was so sensitive about his injury. Although, Dean realized, his first instinct had been concern that Cas was doing too much and he knew how he'd feel if people told him he wasn't capable. So maybe he did get why Cas was so sensitive.

He sighed and turned back to the bathroom. He thought what Cas wanted would work, but he needed to look at the blueprints and talk to the plumber. And he still needed to go through the paperwork for the sites Alastair was threatening. And it was time for payroll. And _shit_ , he needed to pay the subcontractor on the Harrington job...

He locked up and drove home, ordering a pizza on the way. He sped through taking a shower and got out just in time to pay the pizza guy. He dumped the pizza in the living room, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and then collapsed onto the couch with the stack of paperwork.

"Fuck you, Alastair," he mumbled as he started going through everything. He made some notes as he went, of paperwork that might be considered sketchy because it had been signed after the work had already started, or wasn't signed by strictly the right person. If Alastair was going to keep coming at Dean he was going to have to be a little more careful with his paperwork in the future.

"Oh, great," he moaned as he got to the end of the pile. Cas’ project was on the list. He'd have to tell Cas about the potential trouble; he just hoped Cas was in a good mood tomorrow morning.


	3. Viewing Pleasure

Dean sat in his truck and closed his eyes, just for a second. He'd gotten to the office at five thirty and hadn't stopped since. He'd skipped lunch and was running on caffeine and sugar. He knew there was an inevitable crash coming, but he still had things to do, so he forced himself to open his eyes and hauled himself out of the truck. He checked in on the progress being made, but it was a slow day with just the plumbers in, digging up holes in the subfloor. He looked at his watch. The engineer was due to be there at three thirty to assess their needs in terms of the beam, so he had some time to kill. He chatted with the lead plumber before wandering off to find Cas. He found him upstairs in the hall bath, scraping up linoleum.

"Hey, Cas, can I talk to you for a second?"

Cas looked up at him with a glare. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, great, man. I didn't even ask how you were, but whatever," Dean snapped. And okay, maybe they shouldn't have this conversation right now since they were obviously both snippy. "Never mind, I'll catch up with you tomorrow."

Dean turned to leave, thinking he should probably get something more substantial than doughnuts into his body, but Cas’ voice stopped him.

"Dean, wait." Dean turned back and saw Cas standing in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning on the scraper, one foot crossed over the other. Now that Dean was getting a good look at him, Cas looked exhausted. Even his hair looked less enthusiastic than usual. "Sorry I snapped. I didn't sleep well."

"I can tell," Dean said before he could filter and his eyes immediately went wide. "I just mean… uh…"

Cas smirked and waved a hand in front of himself. "I know I look like shit. What'd you want to talk to me about?"

Cas was in a tight t-shirt that looked very worn. It had a picture of a girl with freakishly wide eyes with the words "[The Eels](http://i.ytimg.com/vi/Zp-IPswahP8/maxresdefault.jpg)" beside her. Cas, of course, looked indecently good in it, but Dean was used to Cas looking good even when he shouldn't. "It's nothing, really; it can wait. Listen, I've had about twenty doughnuts and fifty cups of coffee today, so I'm going to go get something with protein in it." He paused. "Have you had lunch? You look like you could use a pick me up. And frankly, man, it looks like that linoleum was getting the better of you."

Cas looked over his shoulder and scowled at the floor he'd been scraping. "I think they must have glued this fucking tile down with Satan's semen because it is _not_ coming up. And I've scraped a fair number of… what?"

Dean was bent in two, hands on his knees, laughing hysterically. "S-s-s…." he tried, but he broke down into hysterics again. "Oh shit!" he howled. "Sa… Satan's…."

The corner of Cas’ mouth came up slightly. "Satan's semen?" he asked. "That's what set you off?"

Dean looked at Cas and nodded, one eye screwed shut with the effort to hold in the laughter, but he lost the battle and started laughing again, holding his stomach because it was starting to hurt.

"You're either very easily amused or this is a result of a sugar high," Cas observed and Dean nodded, his laughter starting to come under control.

"Both," he said. "Whew. I haven't laughed like that in… Well, since you went off on the glass blocks, I guess."

"Glad to know I'm so entertaining," Cas said wryly.

"Oh, man. You definitely are, Cas. Don't ever change." He wiped the tears from his eyes, still chuckling. "So, what about lunch?"

Cas sighed and looked back at the floor again. "Yeah, I suppose."

"I promise it won't be too painful," Dean said at the lukewarm response. "You're not a vegetarian or anything, are you?"

"No," Cas shook his head and leaned the scraper against the wall. "But it's very considerate of you to ask."

"That's me," Dean said. "Super considerate." Dean noticed that Cas was still moving stiffly, none of his usual grace present, but he wasn't about to open that can of worms again. "I'll take you to my favorite sub shop. It's not too far from here."

Cas just nodded. "I need to stop by my Jeep," he said suddenly once they were outside. Dean watched him almost shuffle to the passenger side of the Jeep and wished he could say something because Cas was clearly doing too much if he was in this much pain. But he couldn't say anything because he wasn't anything to Cas, really. They were _friendly_ but they weren't friends.

Dean could see Cas through the back window of the Wagoneer and as he watched, he saw Cas bring his cupped hand to his mouth and then throw his head back in a classic dry swallow move. Cas looked back down for a long moment before repeating the movement. He leaned further into the car for a moment and then backed out before slamming the door and heading back to Dean.

"Alright, let's go," he said and Dean nodded. He made a couple of attempts at small talk on the drive, but Cas held himself stiffly in the passenger seat, his face tight and Dean didn't push it. He felt bad for Cas, didn't like seeing him in pain like this. He wished there was something he could do.

They pulled into a spot in front of Garth's and he resisted the urge to slap Cas on the shoulder. "Alright, Cas," he said instead and then realized how lame it sounded. Cas must have thought so, too, because he shot Dean a sour look before he got out of the truck.

"Nice one, Dean," he mumbled to himself and followed Cas into the shop and stood next to him in the short line.

"What's good?" Cas asked.

"Well, I'm partial to the italian. The chicken parm is really great. My friend Benny won't eat anything but the steak bomb. My office manager, Beth, goes back and forth between the tuna fish and the chicken salad."

"Is this your long winded way of telling me that everything's good?" Cas asked acerbically and Dean floundered.

"No, I was just…"

"Sorry." Cas rubbed a hand over his face. "Is it lame to remind you that I didn't sleep last night?"

Dean noticed the upgrade from the 'didn't sleep _well_ ' from earlier to just plain 'didn't sleep', but he didn't say as much. "Not if it's true," he said, and Cas laughed humorlessly.

"It's true," he said with a twist to his lips before Dean was distracted from searching Cas’ face by the girl behind the counter saying hi.

"Hey, Krissy. Keeping your nose clean?" he asked.

"Not even remotely," she said, smiling angelically as Dean laughed. "Usual?"

"Yeah, what the hell." He looked over his shoulder at Cas. "What'll it be?"

Cas’ eyes scanned the menu for another second. "Chicken parm sub. Extra sauce."

"Drinks? Chips?" Krissy asked and Dean nodded.

"Yeah, both times two."

"That'll be…" She did some quick math, "Twenty-six even."

Dean already had his wallet out and handed over the cash before Cas could even reach into his pocket.

"I want to pay for my half," Cas said, clearly perturbed and Dean shrugged.

"You buy next time," he said and he didn't think he imagined the pleased look that passed over Cas’ face before he looked down.

They grabbed their drinks and chips ("Funyons, Dean? Really?") and claimed a table while they waited for their sandwiches. In that time, Dean watched Cas transform from someone who was stiff and terse into to the man Dean knew better.

"I got it," Cas said when their order was called. Dean watched him go and noticed that the lithe grace was back, Cas’ hips moving to avoid chairs as he walked to the counter. Dean was still looking when Cas turned to come back with their sandwiches.

When Cas slid back into the booth across from Dean he was smiling. He handed Dean his plate and then looked down at his own.

"You stare a lot," Cas said.

Dean felt like he'd swallowed his tongue. "I'm just… it's…."

Cas looked up at him from under his lashes and Dean immediately stilled, transfixed. "I wasn't complaining, Dean," he said, his voice soft and dark.

"Oh," Dean said. Silence descended as Cas shook some salt and pepper onto his sandwich and Dean just sat there, staring at Cas, mind whirling with Cas’ sudden personality change and what Dean could only read as blatant flirting. Twenty-five minutes ago Cas had been ready to rip his head off, but now he was loose limbed and smiling. Dean couldn't help but think of the pills he'd seen Cas swallow. At the time he'd assumed they were aspirin or ibuprofen, but now he realized that they must be something stronger. Cas had broken his back so it made sense that he'd have pain medication. But it made Dean wonder why Cas had waited until he was in such extreme pain to take it.

"See?" Cas said as he picked up his sandwich. "You're doing it again. Which leads me to believe that you find me attractive."

Dean spluttered for a second but then he saw Cas smile before he took a bite of his sub and Dean laughed.

"You're a fucker. You just wanted to watch me squirm."

Cas laughed around his bite of sandwich and shrugged. "Seeing you squirm is fun, I admit, but that's not why I said it."

Dean felt like he couldn't breathe. He wasn't sure he was okay with where he thought this was going. "Why'd you say it, then?"

Cas wiped his mouth with a napkin and then rested his arms on the table and looked at Dean, one eyebrow raised. "Because I think it's true. Is it true, Dean?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to form actual words, but the longer he looked at Cas’ amused expression the harder he found it not to smile. He finally had to look down because he couldn't hide his grin.

"You really are a fucker."

"Well here's the thing," Cas said. " _I_ find _you_ very attractive. Unfairly attractive, really." Dean looked up, his fingers digging into his thighs. "So I was thinking that if you were attracted to me, too, we could go on a date."

Dean was silent for a second. "You're asking me out?"

Cas cocked his head. "Yes. And then I'd really like to get into your pants."

"Oh my god, Cas," Dean laughed and ran a hand over his face.

"You don't want to sleep with me?" Cas asked sounding infuriatingly amused.

"Oh no," Dean said, dropping his hand. "I want to sleep with you. I just can't believe we're having this conversation."

Cas smiled. "I've found that with men, it's best to be direct."

"Okay, so about that," Dean said, looking down. "You were married. To a woman." He looked up and Cas nodded. "But you…"

"Am attracted to men, too, yes." Cas searched Dean's face. "Does that make you uncomfortable? That I'm attracted to both genders?"

"No, of course not. I'm really just weirded out more by how forward you are."

"I'm thirty-eight." Cas said. "At some point you get tired of playing things close to the vest. I want you, so I asked. You have yet to answer, by the way."

"Answer?" Dean asked stupidly.

Cas nodded. "Do you want to go out with me?"

Dean clamped down on the yes that immediately rose to his lips. "Cas, it's not a matter of want, it's... I'm… we work together. It wouldn't be professional."

"Oh, fuck that," Cas said and Dean felt a shiver run up his spine.

Dean was so breathless he couldn't answer. Cas cocked an eyebrow.

"So, Dean. Date?"

Dean stared at Cas for another moment and then nodded. "Yeah, yes. Okay. Date, sex, all of it. Yes. As soon as possible," he said, because what the fuck. In for a penny and all of that.

Cas licked his lips and Dean felt the urge to lunge across the table and kiss him. "Tonight?" Cas asked and Dean had to drag his attention from Cas’ mouth.

"Definitely tonight," he said, shifting in his seat.

"What time?"

"I've got a five-thirty meeting that'll be done at six-thirty at the earliest. It takes me about thirty minutes to get home and I need some time to get ready," Dean said. "Say eight?"

"Then I'll pick you up at eight," Cas said. "I'm going to take you to dinner, and then I'm going to bring you back to my place and once there I'm going to do things to you that I shouldn't really mention in public."

Dean huffed a laugh, feeling his cheeks flush with warmth.

"I like seeing you blush," Cas said and Dean rolled his eyes.

"This is definitely the most novel way I've ever been asked out. You know, most people start with dinner and stuff and then back into the sex thing." Dean finally took a bite of his sandwich because he was fucking starving and turned on and he needed something to distract him from looking at Cas’ mouth.

"But I've had the advantage of seeing how you look at me the whole time we've known each other. You very obviously want me, so it was easy to be forward."

Dean cursed silently when he felt himself flush again. "I'm that transparent, huh?"

Cas shrugged. "It's hard to misinterpret when you're staring directly at my ass or chest. Both of which will be fully available for your viewing pleasure tonight."

"Just viewing?" Dean asked and Cas smiled wickedly at him.

"We'll just have to see what a good boy you are." Dean felt himself flush _again, god dammit_ at the words and he dropped Cas’ gaze quickly before he could give anything away. He took a bite of sandwich and then chanced a look up at Cas and was partially dismayed but mostly thrilled to see a considering look on Cas’ face. He felt hot all over and looked back down again. This was the most embarrassing, most arousing lunch he'd ever had.

He steered the conversation into safer territory, but he couldn't stop himself from staring, vibrating with anticipation. Cas noticed him watching and Dean was sure he was preening, tilting his head to make the line of his neck longer, stretching his arm along the back of the booth and puffing out his chest. Dean liked it.

They were on their way back to the worksite when Cas said, "Pull over."

"What?" Dean said and Cas pointed to the side of the road.

"Pull over."

Dean pulled up to the curb and put the truck in park. "What's up?" he asked turning to look at Cas, but Cas was already leaning across the seat, putting his hand on the back of Dean's head to pull him forward into a kiss. Dean didn't hesitate, fisting his hand in the front of Cas’ t-shirt to pull him closer. Cas groaned and leaned back, pulling Dean down on top of him and Dean went, opening his mouth to Cas’ tongue, slotting a thigh between Cas’. Cas rolled his hips against Dean's thigh, broke the kiss to moan roughly against Dean's mouth.

"Fuck," Cas breathed and Dean reached down to grip Cas’ hip, encouraging him to thrust up against him again. Cas exhaled shakily and Dean kissed him again, holding Cas’ hips tight against him.

Dean wasn't exactly sure how long they made out, but his phone buzzing in his pocket made him pull away. He looked at the clock on the dash and cussed because it was almost three-forty.

"Fuck," he said and dug his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen and groaned. "It's the engineer." He tapped the answer button and was pleased when his voice sounded mostly normal when he said hello. Cas leaned up and kissed and licked his way up Dean's neck, pausing to suck his Adam's apple and Dean put a hand on Cas’ forehead and shoved his head back down to the seat. Cas chuckled as Dean glared at him while trying to explain to the engineer that he was just a couple of minutes away. He hung up and immediately tossed the phone into the foot well and kissed Cas again soundly before pulling back. "We have to go back to work," he said and Cas reeled him back in again for another kiss.

"Yeah we do. But we have tonight to look forward to."

"Be tortured by, you mean," he grumbled as he sat up. Cas sat up and scooted all the way back against the door, like he didn't trust himself to be too close to Dean.

"It'll be here before you know it," he said with a grin as he reached to put his seatbelt back on. "Now come on, we don't want to be later than we already are."

Dean sighed and pulled back out into traffic. Somehow he managed to keep his hands off Cas for the rest of the trip back to the house and then managed to have a coherent conversation with the engineer about what they needed to do in order to take down the wall. He also managed to make it through the rest of the day. But rather than feeling distracted by thoughts of Cas, he was super focused, like the anticipation motivated him to get everything done as quickly and efficiently as possible. When the last meeting of the day wrapped up at a quarter ‘til, he flew out of the office. His body was humming with anticipation as he showered, closing his eyes as he ran his hand over his hip and dipped his fingers into the cleft of his ass. He braced one hand against the wall of the shower stall and pressed his soapy fingers inside himself. He made a small noise and let his head drop, let the hot water pound his shoulders as his fingers moved. He wanted Cas’ hands and mouth on him, wanted his fingers inside him, and shivered again with the thought that he was going to get them tonight. He wondered what Cas would want, what his dick would look like, what he'd sound like when Dean sucked him.

Dean pulled his fingers out and put that hand against the wall too. God, he was so turned on he didn't know how he was going to make it through dinner. "Down boy," he said to his dick and then stood up straight to finish showering. Then he spent way too long in front of his closet, trying to decide what to wear. He finally settled on dark wash jeans, a dark red button down and a black jacket. He was still messing with his hair when the doorbell rang. He gave it one last finger comb and then went to the door.

"Hi," he said when he opened the door.

"Hi," Cas replied, giving Dean the once over. "You look great."

"Yeah, you too." Which was an understatement. Cas was wearing black slacks and a deep turquoise shirt that, even in the dim light of the porch, brought out the blue of his eyes. They stood there staring at each other for a moment before Cas stepped into Dean's space and kissed him. It was too short and Dean swayed toward him when he stepped back.

"Come on," Cas said. "We've got reservations."

"Am I dressed okay?" Dean asked as he grabbed his wallet and keys and Cas gave him another slow once over.

"Yes. Very okay." He smiled and jerked his head over his shoulder. "Let's go."

Dean locked the door behind himself and walked to Cas’ Jeep. "You bought this new, didn't you?" he asked as he got in and Cas shot him a look.

"No. I was six when this Jeep came out and not exactly financially solvent. It belonged to my brother, Michael."

"Big gap in ages," Dean observed and Cas laughed, looking over his shoulder as he pulled out of the driveway.

"I have a ridiculously large family. My parents are good Catholics."

"How many siblings?"

Cas hesitated for a moment before answering, "Twelve, including me."

"Jesus Christ!" Dean said. "I don't know how you dealt. I have one brother and I had a whole laundry list of ways I wanted to kill him when we were growing up."

Cas nodded. "It was an interesting challenge. Although by the time the last of us were born, the first were already on their way out of the house. Michael, the eldest, bought this when he graduated college and he _loved_ it like nothing else. But then he went to law school and gradually fell out of love with it. By the time he graduated and got a job with one of the best law firms in Wichita, he hated it with a passion."

"Why?" Dean asked. In his experience, once you fell in love with a car, you were in love for life.

"I hate to say it, but having even a little bit of power changed him. He was my idol when I was a kid. I followed him around everywhere and he let me. He liked showing me things, and he knew I loved this Jeep. He’d let me sit on his lap to steer sometimes when I was still little. So even after he bought himself a new car he kept it and gave it to me when I graduated high school."

"So you're the baby?" Dean probed, because he kind of liked that idea.

"Penultimate," he said, but didn't elaborate. "You've got a brother?"

"Just the one, thank god. His name's Sam. He's a lawyer, too. I was wondering if he might know your brother."

"What kind of law?" Cas asked.

"Non-profit," Dean said and Cas started to laugh. "What?" Cas just laughed harder and Dean smirked. "Let me guess. Your brother thinks my brother's a chump."

"To put it mildly," Cas said, shaking his head. "Michael loves money and power above all things."

"So, corporate law?" Dean guessed and Cas shook his head.

"Worse. Product liability litigation. And not for the people who were injured." Dean made a face. "I know, I know. I'm not proud. We're," he sighed. "We're not close anymore."

"I'm sorry," Dean said softly. "Sammy and I went through a rough patch, didn't talk for over a year. It almost killed me. I practically raised that kid…" he shook his head. "But we're good now. He's even asked me to be his best man."

"Congratulations," Cas said. "When's the wedding?"

"Just a couple of months. Jess wanted to be a June bride."

"It's May, Dean," Cas said and Dean looked over at him, suddenly alarmed.

"Holy shit, it's May. When did May get here?"

"Couple of weeks ago according to my celestial calculations. Every year, I mark the movement of the sun and stars though the sky and record my observations. I call it a ' _calendar_ '. It's very useful for…" He stopped and laughed when Dean punched him in the arm.

"Jesus, I've got stuff to get done." Dean pulled out his phone and made a note to himself to get his best man shit together and then stuffed it back into his pocket. "Maybe I should look into this mysterious calendar of yours."

"I'd be happy to share my occult knowledge with you." Cas turned into a parking lot and pulled into a spot. "Ever been here?" he asked as they got out of the car.

"No," Dean shook his head. "I've passed by it a few times, but it seemed like a date place so I've never gone."

"Well," Cas said, stepping up beside Dean. "I’m glad I've finally given you a reason."

They went in and were seated almost immediately. The atmosphere was cozy, intimate, the lights dim and the decor dark.

"Why don't you date more?" Cas asked once they were seated.

"I'm dating you," he said. "Isn't that enough?"

"Dat _ing_ implies an ongoing thing. I like the sound of that."

"You're entertaining," Dean smirked, leaning back in his seat. "And easy on the eyes. I could see keeping you around for a while."

"I'm flattered," Cas said dryly and Dean laughed.

Dinner was surprisingly easy. Cas really was entertaining and Dean never once felt like clawing his eyes out or running for the hills like he did on most of the infrequent dates he went on. Instead, he felt the bloom of his crush warming into something more serious. He felt a little stab of panic at that, but every time it happened, Cas would laugh or touch him or look at him with those spectacular blue eyes and Dean would think, _It's okay_. Cas felt comfortable.

Dean got Cas’ origin story - born and raised in Wichita, second youngest of twelve, graduated valedictorian of his high school class, went to undergrad at Newman University.

"That's a Catholic school, right?" Dean asked and Cas nodded.

"I was… very devout when I was young. Catholic high school, Catholic undergrad. I majored in history and was going to enter the seminary."

"Oh, wow," Dean said softly and Cas arched his brow in a silent question. "I was just picturing you in the whole… with the collar…"

"That's what I thought. Pervert." Dean might have thought he was being serious, but Cas’ foot was currently looped around Dean's ankle, absently caressing up and down. "I obviously ended up not going that route and went to the University of Michigan instead, to get a Masters in design."

"What made you choose not to go to seminary?" Dean asked.

"Well," Cas said and slid his foot higher up Dean's leg. "I discovered carnal pleasures and realized I would have made a lousy priest."

The toe of Cas’ shoe traced Dean's inseam and Dean licked his lips. "The clergy's loss is my gain."

Cas hummed his agreement and then crooked his finger toward Dean. "Slide down in your seat," he said, his voice low and sure and Dean's heart skipped a beat. But he did what Cas said and slid his hips forward in the chair until Cas’ foot was pressed firmly against his crotch and he hissed in a breath.

"Shh," Cas whispered. "Don't give anything away."

"Easy for you to say," Dean said and then squeezed his eyes shut as Cas stroked up and down.

"Dean. Look at me."

Dean forced his eyes open and looked at Cas who looked infuriatingly unaffected. But his voice, when he spoke, was uneven but so damn growly that Dean felt his cock twitch. "God you're gorgeous," Cas breathed and Dean shivered. "I am going to spread you out and taste every last inch of you."

The waiter chose that moment to show up and Dean stared at his glass so he wouldn't glare daggers at him. He droned on about dessert specials as he cleared away plates, all the while Cas’ foot was still dragging over Dean's crotch, driving him fucking insane. He heard Cas say something, but couldn't focus on the words, couldn't focus on anything but Cas’ foot against his dick.

"Tell me you didn't order dessert," he said once the waiter left, his voice sounding seriously wrecked to his own ears.

"I've got dessert to go," Cas said and Dean was going to complain, but then what Cas meant sunk into his sex drugged brain and he pressed up against Cas’ shoe.

"Thank God. Do we need to pay?"

"Taken care of."

Dean thought very briefly about arguing, but he was sure the waiter was already gone with Cas’ credit card, so what was the point, really? All he wanted was to get out of here and get back to Cas’ place because he wanted Cas inside him _right the fuck now_. He also wanted to get out of here, because with the way Cas was looking at him, he knew what he must look like.

Dean put his hand over Cas’ foot and really ground up against it, letting his eyes flutter shut and moaning softly.

"Good," he said and opened his eyes. His fingers moved down until he could brush Cas’ ankle. "I'm ready to blow this joint."

Cas’ pupils were blown, his lips wet and parted, and Dean felt a shiver of victory that Cas wasn't as cool as he liked to project.

The waiter came back with the receipt and Cas dropped his foot to the floor as he took the receipt book and wrote in a tip and then signed hurriedly. "Let's go," he said with a grin and Dean didn't need to be asked twice. They walked out to Cas’ jeep, Dean trying to adjust himself discreetly, and Cas chuckled. Dean tried to shoot him a dirty look but knew his face just wasn't up for it right now. He was too excited and turned on and happy to scowl.

Cas seemed to be able to see that because as they reached the Jeep, Cas leaned against it and reached out to pull Dean against him. "You have no idea how gorgeous you look when you're being teased," he said before pulling Dean down to kiss him. Dean put his hands on Cas’ hips, wondering at how fucking _hard_ Cas’ body was and kissing back with everything, letting all his want bleed through.

Cas shoved him away too soon and Dean leaned back in, wanting to taste the skin of Cas’ neck, but Cas held him at bay. "Get in the truck before I do something that gets the police called," he said and Dean grinned.

“Yeah, fine. Prison would put a cramp in my style,” Dean said as he started to move around the Jeep.

Cas laughed and started toward the driver’s side. “Or put a seriously kinky kink in it,” he suggested as he got in.

Dean snorted. “Let’s save the prison gang bang fantasy for another night.”

“I suppose,” Cas sighed dramatically.

Dean spent the entire drive with his hands clamped on his thighs, even as they talked, because he knew that he wouldn't be able to control himself. He breathed a sigh of relief when they pulled up to Cas’ house.

"This isn't what I imagined you living in," he said as they got out.

"Me neither,” Cas sighed. “But it's what I was able to find when Naomi and I divorced. She got the old place."

Cas’ house was a non-descript ranch, like most of the homes in this neighborhood, and Dean could hear the disappointment in Cas’ voice when he talked about it.

Cas let them in the front door and flipped on a light.

"Do you want a drink?" he asked and Dean pressed himself against Cas’ back, wrapped his arms around his waist.

"No. What I want is you and me naked in bed as soon as humanly possible."

Cas turned in the circle of Dean's arms and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I can make that happen.” He backed up, running his hands down Dean's arms until their hands met. Cas linked their fingers together and tugged, taking a couple of steps backwards. "Come on."

He let go of one of Dean's hands so he could turn, but he held on to the other as he led Dean to the back of the house. Once in the bedroom he let go of Dean’s hand and moved to turn on a small bedside lamp before turning back to Dean. He kissed Dean, his hands running up into Dean's hair and Dean groaned, leaning into Cas’ body. When Cas stepped back, Dean whined, but Cas soothed his hands down Dean's chest as they parted. He sat on the bed, holding Dean's gaze, letting him know he wanted him to stay put, and then scooted back until he was nearly leaning against the head of the bed.

"I want to watch you undress," he said and Dean swallowed.

"I don't give good striptease," he said apologetically, but Cas shook his head.

"I don't want a strip tease, I just want to watch you undress. Will you do that for me?"

Dean's hands were shaking with arousal and anticipation as his fingers reached for the button of his shirt. He watched Cas watching him, eyes dark with desire, and Dean tried to make it as good as he could. He drug his fingers over his over his skin as he exposed it, scraping his nails over his nipples. He ran his hands down over his stomach, feeling a little self-conscious about the softness there, but Cas was watching him so avidly that he couldn't feel too bad about it. He palmed his cock, rubbing his hand up and down, making his breath stutter before slipping the button through its hole. He slid his fingers under the waist and slowly pushed his jeans and underwear over his hips. He shimmied a little to get them to fall all the way to the floor and blushed when Cas laughed softly.

"You're perfect, Dean," Cas said and then shifted a little and then patted the comforter at his sides. "Now come here."

Dean was breathless as he knelt on the bed and knee walked forward. When he was even with Cas’ hips he threw one leg over so he was straddling Cas. Dean didn't miss the flash of possessive pleasure that crossed Cas’ face as he did so and it made him shiver. Cas put his hands on Dean's back, let his fingertips find the divot of Dean's spine and drug them down, nails digging in. Dean gasped and arched his back, and then moaned when Cas’ fingers dug into his cheeks and spread him open. Cas used his grip to roll Dean's hips forward so Dean's cock pressed against Cas’ stomach. A second later, Cas forced Dean’s hips away, and then drew him back again.

"Good, Dean," Cas breathed. "Keep moving just like that."

[](http://imgur.com/KVQOKn3)

Dean made a sound in the back of his throat as Cas moved his hands up Dean's back and over his shoulders. Dean kept thrusting his hips against Cas’ stomach as one of Cas’ hands moved into Dean's hair and the other came down to cup Dean's cheek. Cas twisted his fingers through Dean's hair and yanked his head back. Dean yelped but kept his hips moving against the hard plane of Cas’ stomach. The scratch of the fabric of Cas’ shirt over the sensitive skin of Dean's dick, the pain where Cas’ hand was fisted in his hair were making every nerve in Dean's body sing with pleasure, and when Cas’ fingers brushed Dean's lips, Dean opened his mouth eagerly. He sucked Cas’ fingers, running his tongue over and between them as Cas slid them in an out, fucking Dean's mouth.

Cas pulled his fingers from Dean's mouth and used his grip in his hair to pull him into a kiss. Dean moaned as Cas pulled him forward, off balance, so he was forced to lean against Cas’ chest. He whined softly when Cas reached around him and pressed his spit-wet fingers against Dean's hole. He didn't push inside, just massaged the rim of muscle, making Dean pant into Cas’ mouth. Cas pulled Dean's head back again so he could kiss and suck the column of Dean's neck.

"God, Dean," he breathed, scraping his teeth over Dean's Adam's apple. "You're so beautiful, so perfect."

"Please, Cas," Dean begged softly, not even sure if he was begging for more of this or for something else. All he knew was that he needed Cas to keep touching him.

Cas hummed softly and sucked a bruise just below Dean's collarbone before pulling back.

"Lay down," he ordered and Dean tried to obey immediately, but his limbs were slow and heavy. He finally slid off Cas and lay on his back and watched Cas get off the bed.

Cas’ eyes roamed up and down Dean's body as he undid the buttons of his shirt and took it off. Dean wanted to reach out and touch Cas’ revealed skin because Cas’ body was perfection. He was lean and muscled, his skin a warm bronze. Dean's eyes were drawn to Cas’ pants when Cas started to undo the button. Dean licked his lips because he wanted to see Cas’ cock. Wanted to see it, and touch it, and taste it. Wanted it inside him, pounding him full of pleasure.

"You're staring again, Dean," Cas said, and Dean looked up to see the skin around Cas’ eyes crinkled with amusement and Dean smiled.

"You promised me that everything would be available for my full viewing pleasure," Dean said and felt a bloom of warmth when Cas’ amusement broadened into a smile.

"Yes, I did, and I keep my promises." Cas pulled down the zipper of his slacks and then cocked his head at Dean. "I think I specifically promised you a view of my chest and my ass. You've already gotten an eyeful of my chest," he started and Dean murmured, "And it's a really nice chest."

"So now I guess I owe you a view of…." He turned around and slowly slid his slacks and underwear over his ass. Dean rolled onto his side so he could see better because _Jesus_. Cas’ ass belonged on the statue of some Greek God— high and tight and perfect. Dean groaned as Cas bent over to push his pants all the way off, giving him a perfect view.

"So," Cas said, looking over his shoulder after he straightened up. "What do you think?"

Dean swallowed because his mouth was suddenly dry. "Worth the wait and deserving of all the ogling."

Cas grinned and turned around and Dean's eyes immediately dropped to Cas’ dick, which was thick and long, red at the head, and slick with pre-come.

"I want to suck you," Dean said and Cas moved back toward Dean.

"Eventually," he said, climbing onto the bed. He touched Dean's thigh and Dean spread his legs so Cas could kneel between them. Cas planted his hands on either side of Dean's head and leaned down, pressing their bodies together. "I want to give you a couple of rules, Dean. Are you okay with that?" Dean's breath locked in his throat so he just nodded and Cas brushed his lips over Dean's. "Say it, Dean."

Dean took a deep breath. "Yeah, yes. I'm okay with that."

"Good," Cas murmured. He ran his hand down one of Dean's arms and circled his fingers around Dean's wrist. He lifted Dean's arm above his head and pressed it into the mattress. "One, if I do anything you don't like, I want you to tell me immediately. Understand?"

Dean nodded, but at Cas’ look said, "Yes."

"Second…" His other hand ran down Dean's other arm and repeated the movement of lifting it over Dean's head. "I don't want you to come until I say so."

Dean shuddered and shakily said, "Yes, sir."

He didn't realize what he'd said until Cas smiled and said, "Good, Dean."

But Dean noticed the hesitation between the words and because Cas clearly wanted to say it and obviously liked Dean like this, Dean gathered his courage. "Say it."

Cas looked down at Dean, his expression aroused and happy. "Good boy."

Dean relaxed into the bed, reveling in the feeling of Cas pressing down on him, his thighs spread around Cas’ hips.

"That's it, Dean," Cas said. "Let go. Just remember my rules."

"I'll remember," Dean said. "Just… please Cas."

"Shh, Dean," Cas murmured and kissed him gently. "Let me take care of you."

"Yes, please. I trust you, Cas."

Those words seemed to galvanize Cas. Suddenly his mouth was on Dean's, his kisses fervent, his hands seemingly everywhere. Dean could only arch his back and offer his body to Cas because god, he wanted this so much. He was trembling when Cas finally settled between his thighs, closing his mouth over Dean's cock. Cas’ fingers nudged Dean's hole as he sucked and Dean spread his legs wider, begging Cas silently. Cas complied, pulling off of Dean's cock and moving down to suck and lick his hole. Dean drew his knees up and back, giving Cas more room and Cas took advantage, pressing his tongue into Dean. The muscles in Dean's legs started quivering, and Cas’ hands clamped below Dean's knees, holding him open as his tongue finally pushed inside.

Dean was semi-aware he was being loud, moaning and begging Cas for more, but he couldn't bother to be worried about it. Cas was so fucking _good_ at this and when he slid in two fingers in alongside his tongue, Dean's world fucking flew apart. He broke the position Cas had put him in, hands above his head, to reach down and tangle his fingers in Cas’ hair to pull him closer because oh my god he was about to come so fucking hard, but then he remembered he wasn't allowed to.

"Fuck," he growled, and threw his hands back over his head to gather the sheets into his fists and thought about payroll because he was so god damn close to coming. Cas had mercy on him and pulled away. Dean could feel Cas’ eyes on him as he struggled to claw his way back from the edge. He was still breathing hard, his abs jumping and twitching, when he finally cracked his eyes and saw Cas sitting back on his heels between Dean's legs, watching him.

"Sorry," Dean managed, his voice still quaking, and Cas leaned forward to put his hand on Dean's chest.

"Don't apologize. That was so fucking hot." His hand slid up to the side of Dean's neck. "It would have been incredibly hot if you'd come just from my tongue and fingers, even if it _was_ breaking a rule, but watching you pull yourself back from the edge…" Cas grinned and shook his head. "That was the most beautiful thing I've seen in a long time."

Dean exhaled a shaky laugh, glad that Cas wasn't pissed. Actually, he felt fucking exultant that Cas had liked what he'd seen, so he hooked his heels around Cas’ hips and arched his whole body. "You're not done with me, are you?" It was gratifying to watch Cas’ gaze go dark and possessive so Dean arched again. "Come on, Cas. I want you. Fuck me."

Cas shifted to cover Dean's body with his own again and let his weight settle on Dean.

"Say that again," Cas murmured as he kissed Dean's eyelids and Dean gripped the sheets over his head tighter because he wanted to put his hands on Cas and pull him closer.

"I want you, Cas," Dean breathed, tilting his head back so his lips could drag over Cas’ neck. "I want you inside of me. I want to come while riding your cock. I want you to fuck me."

Cas closed his mouth over Dean's and then pulled back and laughed. "Really I just wanted you to say you wanted me to fuck you again, but I'll take the rest."

Dean laughed and he couldn't remember the last time he’d felt comfortable enough to laugh during sex. He clutched Cas closer to him with his legs and lifted his shoulders from the bed and kissed Cas hard before he collapsed back down. "I want you to fuck me, Cas. I want it so bad I haven't been able to stop thinking about it for weeks. Fuck me, _please_."

Cas reached up and gripped Dean's hair tight in one hand. "I love hearing you beg." He tucked his hips against Dean's and Dean moaned. "And I can't wait to fuck you."

"I want to touch you," Dean said brokenly and Cas leaned in to kiss his lips.

"Can I give you a third rule, Dean?" he asked.

Dean nodded. "Yes."

Cas smiled and kissed him again. "I like you like this, Dean." He let go of Dean's hair and stroked his fingers down Dean's cheek. "Your third rule is you can touch me whenever you want."

Dean groaned in response to Cas’ words and brought his hands down, threaded them under Cas’ arms so he could put his hands on Cas’ back. He could feel the muscles in Cas’ back shift as he pushed himself up slightly so he could pepper kisses down Dean's torso.

Dean let himself go completely, putting himself and his pleasure into Cas’ very capable hands and Cas used him perfectly. He let himself beg because he wanted to and because Cas liked it. He touched Cas everywhere because Cas said he could. And when Cas told him told him to roll over, he did so eagerly because Cas wanted him to and he wanted Cas so fucking bad.

"Please, Cas," he said as he lifted his hips. He spread his knees apart and arched his back. "I need you, god please."

"Easy, Dean," Cas said running his hands over Dean's lower back. "Sit up for me."

Dean didn't want to sit up, he wanted Cas’ dick inside him right the fuck now. But Cas told him to, so with a groan he pushed himself up to kneeling and shifted back so he was sitting on his heels. He leaned back against Cas’ chest, letting his solid strength support him.

Cas kissed the side of Dean's neck and murmured, "Good boy." He reached around Dean and put his hand on Dean's belly. It was hot and solid and grounded Dean in a way he hadn't realized he needed to be grounded. He exhaled and relaxed against Cas’ chest and Cas hummed softly. "There you go." He brushed his fingers up and down Dean's abdomen so lightly that goose bumps broke out in their wake. "And now you're going to bend back over and I am going to fuck you so hard you forget your name and you're going to be fully present with me, okay?"

Dean laughed and turned his head so he could kiss Cas. "I think I can handle that. Now come on, I'm ready to forget my name."

Cas kissed him again and then put his hand on Dean's shoulder and pushed him forward. "Same position," Cas said and Dean dropped his shoulders to the bed. "Yeah, you look good like this." Dean arched his back, preening at the compliment, and Cas chuckled as he reached for the condom. He ripped open the pack and rolled it on before running his fingers over Dean's slick, open hole and wiping the lube over the condom.

Dean's fists held the sheets tight as Cas pushed into him, all his breath stolen away. When Cas bottomed out, he ran his hands up Dean's back. "Okay?"

Dean blew out the breath he'd been holding and laughed. "I'm really, really great." He felt like he was having an out of body experience. His mind was clear of everything but him and Cas and he felt light and happy. He reached back and grabbed Cas’ thigh. "I'm so good."

"What's your name?" Cas asked and Dean could hear the smile in his voice.

Dean laughed again – Jesus, he had Cas’ dick up his ass and he was actually laughing – and squeezed Cas’ thigh again. "Oh, you've gotta work harder than that, buddy."

"I can do that," Cas said and slowly pulled out. Dean shuddered and moaned, moving with Cas as they fell into a hard rhythm. Hearing Cas moan, feeling his hands twitching on Dean's hips, was driving Dean crazy, turning him on harder than he had been in a long time. Cas rode him hard, driving him toward orgasm. Dean wanted to wrap his hand around his aching cock and jerk himself off, but knew he wasn't allowed to. That knowledge turned him on even more and he panted open mouthed into the sheets.

"Up, Dean," Cas said and this time Dean went without hesitation. Dean ground down onto Cas’ cock and he heard Cas’ breath hitch. "That's good, Dean. Fuck yourself on me, make yourself come."

Dean moaned and rode Cas and Cas wrapped an arm around Dean's chest, meeting him with every thrust, their skin slipping sweat slick together, making obscene noises. Dean was shivering, so close to the edge, and Cas had his face pressed into the crook of Dean's neck, worrying the skin there with his tongue and teeth.

"Fuck," Cas breathed shakily and Dean bore down, tightening himself around Cas and Cas gasped, "Jesus."

Hearing Cas’ voice like that, like he was completely taken apart, made Dean's arousal flare and suddenly he was right there, his orgasm threatening. He tried to breathe, to pull himself back, but the drag of Cas’ dick inside him was too intense. But he didn't want to blow without permission.

"Please, Cas. God, please let me come."

"Yes, beautiful. Come for me."

Dean started coming even before all the words were out of Cas’ mouth. As soon as he heard yes, he let go and let that delicious pleasure unwind from his balls and spread through his entire body. He shook through it, Cas the only thing holding him up, fucking him through it until Cas’ arm tightened around Dean's chest and he groaned brokenly as he lost his rhythm.

They sat there for a long moment, catching their breath, until finally Cas tipped them forward, easing Dean onto all fours so he could pull out. He looked down at Dean's swollen hole and ran his thumb over it, just to see Dean shiver, then pulled away to dispose of the condom.

When he laid down next to Dean, he ran his hand back through Dean's sweaty hair. Dean opened his eyes with effort and smiled at Cas who was red in the face and shiny with sweat. Dean wanted to lick the column of his neck but he couldn't muster enough energy to move so he just wiggled his fingers. Cas took the hint and abandoned Dean's hair so he could twine their fingers together.

"That was fucking awesome," Dean slurred and Cas grinned.

"Yeah," he said and leaned forward for a lazy kiss.

"'M gonna be walking funny for a week."

"I can't bring myself to feel bad about that," Cas said and Dean laughed.

"Me either." He twisted his head to look around. "Where're covers? It's chilly now that we're not moving."

Cas untwined their hands and sat up. "Come on," he said, pulling Dean up. "We're facing the foot. Turn around."

Once he got Dean's head on a pillow he got off the bed and gathered all the covers that had been kicked off and spread them out again. Dean made a pleased sound as he snuggled under the blanket, then another after Cas turned out the light and slid in next to him.

"D'you mind?" Dean asked softly as he wrapped himself around Cas. The sex had been more mentally intense than he'd been banking on, and he needed the connection to bring him back down.

Cas seemed to understand because he wrapped an arm around Dean's shoulder and pulled him tighter against him. "No, I don't mind. What else do you need?"

Dean smiled against Cas’ shoulder and tightened his arm around Cas’ chest. He felt soft, diaphanous – and Cas’ warmth, the friction where Cas’ thumb was rubbing tiny circles into his shoulder was exactly what he needed so he wouldn't blow away. "Just this."

Cas kissed Dean's forehead and put his free hand on Dean's arm where it was draped over his stomach. He lazily stroked up and down until Dean's breathing evened out and he was sound asleep.

"You were so perfect, Dean," he whispered and kissed Dean's forehead again before drifting off into sleep himself.


	4. Refrigerator Psychology

Dean woke the next morning to Cas’ warm hand on his shoulder. At some point in the night, Dean had shifted into his preferred sleeping position – on his belly, hugging the pillow.

"Dean," Cas said again softly and Dean blinked his eyes open.

"Mornin'," he replied, voice sleep rough.

Cas smiled and shifted his hand from Dean's shoulder to his head, threading his fingers back through the tousled strands. "I wasn't sure what time you wanted to get up, so I thought I'd wake you sooner rather than later."

Dean hummed in appreciation and pushed himself up onto his elbow. "What time is it?"

"Six-thirty," Cas answered and Dean made a face. "Too early?"

"Nah." Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. "I usually get up at six for a run, but I'm not really feeling up to it today," he said and dropped his hand so he could grin at Cas.

Cas grinned back and then held out a cup of coffee. Dean took it eagerly.

"Bless you," he said and took a sip. "Oh, that's good." He took another sip. "You got a Starbucks in your kitchen or something?"

Cas sneered. " _Starbucks_. No, I have really great beans and a French press."

"Mm," Dean hummed as he drank again. "I'm gonna have to sleep over more often."

"I think that can be arranged," Cas said with a smirk and Dean put his coffee down on the nightstand. Cas' chest was still bare, so Dean tucked two fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and tugged him forward. Cas went willingly, climbing onto the bed and settling over Dean. They made out lazily, hands wandering, happy just to explore each other after the intensity of last night. And Dean was enjoying it a lot. Dean's relationships since college had mostly consisted of one night stands or ‘friends with benefits’ type arrangements, so he hadn't had many opportunities to lay in bed in the morning and just make out like this. Even with Crowley, there’d never been anything like this, this slow drag of lips and tongue. Now, with Cas’ hands in his hair, his lips burning from the rasp of Cas’ stubble, and Cas’ warm skin under his hands, he was thinking that he'd really been missing out.

A long time later Cas looked at the clock and sighed, "We're going to be late to the worksite if we don't get a move on."

"Don't care," Dean said and pulled Cas’ mouth back down to his. And he didn't. Really. At all. He pulled away from Cas’ mouth with a disgusted noise. "Let me get my phone. I'll get my best foreman down there."

Cas’ eyebrows went up as he rolled off Dean. "You didn't put your best foreman on my job?"

"No, I put myself on," he said and slid out of the bed. He was completely unself-conscious as he found his phone and stood there texting Benny, totally naked and half hard. When he looked up and saw Cas looking at him with an expectant expression he laughed. "Yes, fine, I put myself on the job because I thought you were hot and I wanted to get to know you better. Happy?"

"Oh yeah, I'm really happy," Cas laughed. "My ego is thoroughly stroked."

Dean climbed back onto the bed, phone still in hand. "Please, do you really expect me to rise to that bait?"

"Seems like you already have," Cas said with a grin and reached between Dean's legs.

Dean snorted and jerked away. "You are so lame, I swear."

Dean's phone buzzed, but Cas was still grabbing for Dean's dick so he ignored it and kept wrestling with Cas, laughing like an idiot. There was a lot of groping and kissing as they struggled, but Dean's superior strength finally allowed him to roll Cas and pin his arms under his knees. Cas looked kind of pissed but Dean pressed a kiss to his own fingers and then pressed his fingers to Cas’ lips.

"I'll make it up to you in just a minute. Also you topped the shit out of me last night so I think you can deal with this."

Cas grumbled under his breath, but a smile was tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Dean picked up his phone and opened up the text from Benny. It simply said, _Way to go, brother. Take all the time you need, I'm on it_.

"Ugh," Dean rolled his eyes and tossed his phone back to the floor where it landed with a dull thud on the deep pile carpet. "In about thirty minutes everyone I know will know that I got laid so good last night that it kept going this morning."

"That a problem?" Cas asked earnestly. Dean didn't want Cas to think he was in the closet or anything, so he released Cas’ arms from where they were pinned beneath his knees and bent down to kiss him.

"Only in that I'm going to be ribbed for weeks," Dean said and Cas reached for his ass.

Another wrestling bout ensued until Cas was suddenly out of his sweats and pinned beneath Dean again. Dean beamed at him, breathing hard.

"You know," he said, snaking a hand between them so he could grip Cas’ dick. "I didn't get to play with this at all last night."

"Obviously a gross oversight on my part," Cas smirked back. Dean squeezed and Cas sucked in a breath. "Which I intend to let you rectify right now."

"That's what I like to hear," Dean said with a smile as he started working his way down Cas’ body.

He was eager to have Cas’ dick in his mouth so he didn't waste any time teasing, just kissed a line down Cas’ chest and belly and then ran his tongue down the length of Cas’ cock. He pulled Cas’ cock into his mouth and slowly sank down, loving the taste and feel of it. The rhythm he found was easy and slow, taking Cas deep, tucking the head into his throat and swallowing. Cas wasn't quiet or passive. The first time Cas gripped Dean's hair and thrust up, he pulled away immediately, gasping an apology, but Dean grabbed his hand and brought it back down. He pressed a kiss to the palm.

"It's okay," Dean urged him. "I like it."

As he watched that look come into Cas’ eyes, that dominating, smoldering look, Dean realized he could get used to seeing it. Cas ran his fingers back through Dean's hair and then slowly closed it into a fist and tugged.

"Come on, then," Cas said and Dean opened his mouth and let Cas slide his dick back in. Cas kept the same rhythm Dean had set, pushing slowly deep into Dean's throat. Dean hummed in contentment, feeling absolutely perfect. He lost track of time, only focusing again when Cas pulled away and started stroking himself hard and fast. Dean opened his mouth and stretched out his tongue, ready to catch everything Cas pumped out.

Cas grunted and arched, using his grip in Dean's hair to pull him forward again. Dean went eagerly, closing his mouth over the head of Cas’ cock and moaned when he tasted the first hot strands of Cas’ come. He sucked hard and slid one hand off Cas’ thigh to his balls. Cas shuddered and Dean felt another pulse of come across his tongue. He gentled Cas through his orgasm and then pulled off. Cas was panting, but he yanked on Dean's hair.

"Get up here and jerk off on me."

Dean didn't have to be asked twice. He crawled up Cas’ body and straddled his hips, bracing one hand against Cas’ shoulder. Dean's eyes slid shut as he jerked himself off. He was so turned on from Cas fucking his throat that he was already close to coming and when Cas slid his hands up Dean's thighs and told him how good he was, how gorgeous, Dean's world lit up. He striped Cas’ chest with thick streams of come, shuddering as he squeezed out every last ounce of pleasure.

He collapsed next to Cas, eyes closed, breathing hard. "Wow," was all he could manage.

Cas leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed a couple of tissues to wipe himself off, then turned back to Dean. "I wasn't too rough, was I?"

Dean shook his head, not opening his eyes. "Not at all. You can be even rougher if you want. I like it." Cas was silent so Dean cracked an eye and saw Cas peering at him with a considering look. Dean just tried to keep breathing because _Jesus_ , being on the receiving end of that blue-eyed stare was unnerving. Finally, Cas lifted a hand and brushed his fingers down Dean's jaw.

"It's something we can talk about. Now," he said, his tone changing completely. "If we don't get out of this bed now I fear for our productivity."

"I need a shower," Dean mused trying to get his mind to change tracks from sex all day with Cas to business.

"You can shower here or I can take you home. I probably have a shirt that will fit you," Cas said and that's when Dean realized he was stranded. He needed to get home to get his truck but it was already getting late...

"I'll shower here," he decided, vowing to figure out the logistics of getting home later. "Come with me."

"I thought we were trying to get out of the house," Cas said with a smirk and Dean leaned in to kiss it off his face.

"We can be good," Dean said and Cas laughed.

"I highly doubt that."

Cas ended up in the shower with Dean anyway and they weren't exactly good, but they still made it out with hot water to spare. Cas found Dean a t-shirt and then poured them both bowls of cereal.

"Aw, Cas, come on," Dean said after his first bite. "What the hell is this?"

"Bran flakes," Cas answered and Dean groaned.

"Are you a health freak or something?"

"You'd prefer Frosted Flakes?" Cas asked as Dean grumbled around another mouthful of cereal.

"Fruity Pebbles. God give me strength," he prayed and took another bite, grimacing.

"I had no idea you ate like a five year old," Cas snorted.

"And I had no idea you ate like a ninety year old, grandpa."

Cas grinned. "Only for breakfast and only because I hate breakfast."

"Yeah, I'd hate breakfast, too, if this is what I had," Dean shot back.

By the time they finally left the house it was almost nine and Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten to the office this late. He pressed a kiss to Cas’ lips before he got out of the Jeep and was still smiling when he entered the building.

"Someone's cheerful this morning," Beth said when Dean walked in and his grin just widened at her observation.

"Yeah," he nodded. "You have any storm clouds to rain on my parade?"

"Not a one, boss."

Dean grabbed her face and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "That's what I like to hear! And you're stuck with me all day. I got dropped off."

"Oooh," Beth said knowingly. "Well, if you really need to get to a site, you can borrow my car."

"Thanks, Beth," he said, blushing. He felt like his mom had just found out he'd had sex and retreated to his office before he could get any more embarrassed.

Being trapped turned out to be a good thing because he was forced to deal with all the paperwork he tended to avoid. At random times during the day he'd think about Cas, feel the soreness in his body, and smile. He hoped this thing with Cas would last a while because Cas was funny and hot and fucking _amazing_ in bed and he wanted to see what Cas would do to him when they were more comfortable with each other.

The day flew by and before he knew it, it was almost six and Beth had said goodbye an hour ago. Dean stood and stretched, then realized he was well and truly stranded. Feeling irritated he pulled out his phone and texted Cas.

 _Good thing it's a nice night since I'm walking home from the office_. He had no idea if it was actually a nice night or not, he just wanted to say something bitchy. Maybe he _would_ have to walk home, he thought as he started cleaning up the paperwork that was still scattered across his desk, so he hoped it really was a nice night. He stood, leaning over his desk to write himself a note for the next day, when he was startled by Cas’ voice.

"I had no idea you could be so high drama."

Dean jumped and looked up to see Cas leaning in the doorway of his office.

"I'm not high drama," he said, finishing his note and slapping it onto his computer screen.

" _I will have to walk home, uphill the entire way, barefoot and pregnant! You knocked me up you bastard!_ " Cas trilled in a high, southern belle accent and Dean laughed despite himself.

"That's not exactly what I said."

"No, it's true," Cas conceded. "You're biologically incapable of becoming pregnant."

"You're such a dick," Dean laughed.

"Now that we've established that you're a drama queen, wanna get out of here?" Cas pushed away from the doorjamb and moved further into Dean's office.

"I'm not…" he started and then sighed. He knew it was a losing battle, so he decided to play to it. "If you don't get over here and kiss me within the next five seconds I'm going to withhold sex for a week."

Cas raised an eyebrow, coming around Dean's desk. "That's a serious threat."

Dean hummed his agreement. "I'm a drama queen, so…"

Cas pushed him up against the desk and kissed him silent. Dean's hands went around Cas’ waist, his fingers dipping below the waist of Cas’ jeans. Cas smelled like he'd been working all day, musky and salty. Dean broke off the kiss so he could do what he'd wanted to do the first time he smelled Cas. He pressed his face into the crook of his neck and breathed in and then ran his tongue up the tendon standing out there.

Cas groaned and tilted his head to the side and Dean worried at the skin behind Cas’ ear. He tasted even better than he smelled and Dean pressed their bodies closer together, kissing along Cas’ jaw to find his mouth again.

"Are we getting out of here, or…" Cas said and Dean grunted, unwilling to give up the taste of Cas’ skin. He sighed against Cas’ neck and sucked a bit of skin between his teeth. Cas hissed and pulled Dean closer. "Come on, let's get out of here. We need to christen your place."

"We need to christen my office, too," Dean reasoned and Cas chuckled.

"We do, but when we christen this office it's going to be with you bent over this desk, holding yourself open for me as I fuck you." Dean groaned and Cas continued. "You'll be totally naked, but I'll still have my clothes on. My zipper will rub a raw spot on your ass."

Dean groaned. "I want to do that right now," he said and then groaned again when Cas grabbed his ass and pulled him close.

"Me, too, Dean," Cas growled. "And as soon as we can, we'll do it. But you're in no shape right now."

Dean knew Cas was right; he was still too sore from last night, regardless of how much he wanted Cas inside him again.

"My place, then?" Dean breathed and Cas bit him.

"Yeah. Do you need to bitch about being stranded anymore before we leave?"

"I'm going to bitch about this for _months_ ," Dean promised with a smile, sliding off the desk.

"I look forward to it," Cas said sarcastically.

Cas drove them to Dean's place and Dean went into the kitchen to rummage through one of the drawers. When he turned around, he had an array of take-out menus in his hands. He waved them at Cas and then gestured toward the fridge.

"You're welcome to brave the fridge, but take-out is definitely the safest option," Dean said and was surprised when Cas moved toward the fridge. "You… what are you doing?"

"Just checking it out. You can tell a lot about a man from the contents of his fridge."

"Uh huh," Dean said, dubious. "You're about to tell that I'm stale pizza, a container of moldy something, and beer kinda guy."

Cas stood in front of the open door for a while, peering around at the contents before straightening up and opening the freezer.

"Cas," Dean started, but Cas held up his hand.

"This is fascinating," Cas remarked and Dean's eyebrows shot up.

"It is?"

"Mmm," Cas hummed and shut the doors. "You've got a random assortment of healthy items and some old homemade leftovers in addition to the pizza. You've got a couple of things of chicken in the freezer, one that looks like it's been there a while."

"Wow," Dean said and gestured for Cas to continue. "Please, don't stop. I've never been psychoanalyzed via the contents of my fridge."

"I'd say you try. You want to cook and make meals, but it's unsatisfying to do so just for yourself." Cas shrugged. "And so you fall back into the routine of ordering out."

"Well, that's really interesting," Dean said, turning away so Cas wouldn't see how angry he was all of a sudden, how close Cas had hit to the mark. "Do you want to go through my medicine cabinet next or do you want to actually get something to eat?"

Cas was silent for a long beat but Dean didn't, couldn't, turn to look at him. He sifted through the menus, trying to get his shit together, because someone making observations based on the contents of his fridge should not make his chest ache.

He started when he felt Cas’ hand on his shoulder. Cas slid it down slowly until it was resting against the small of Dean's back and then Cas leaned in to rub his chin against Dean's shoulder.

"Do you have a favorite place?" he asked and Dean was grateful that Cas was changing the subject.

Dean leaned into him and spread out the menus. "Depends on what you're in the mood for," he said, pissed that his voice cracked. "I could go for Thai or barbecue," he said, teasing the menus out from the pile.

"I actually love this Thai place," Cas pointed to the menu and Dean nodded.

"Great. Why don't you order, I'm gonna go change. You want a pair of sweatpants or anything?"

Cas shook his head. "No, I'm good, thanks."

"Be right back," Dean said and fled upstairs. He kicked himself when he got to his room because he knew he was overreacting, but what Cas said had really shaken him simply because it was so _true_. He did go through periods where he was going to cook his dinner rather than order out, but cooking for one always seemed so pointless, a waste, one that only continued to remind him that he was one instead of two.

" _Ugh_ ," he spat and started stripping off his clothes. The fact he was lonely wasn't exactly a revelation to him. Dean had been lonely for a long time. Since Sam had shipped out to California, probably, but he'd sort of resigned himself to it. At least he thought he had. But if Cas’ refrigerator psychology was to be believed, he wasn't as resigned as he liked to think. "Ugh," he said again and pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He didn't like examining his feelings under the best of circumstances, and he certainly didn't want to examine them when he had a super hot guy who wanted to fuck him into oblivion in his house.

Dean trotted back downstairs and found Cas in his living room, looking over the pictures and books that filled one of the built in bookshelves. He moved up behind Cas and slid his arm around his waist, pressed his nose into Cas’ hair.

"You order?" he asked softly and Cas nodded.

"Pretty much one of everything. I hope you're hungry."

"Very," Dean said and squeezed Cas tighter.

Cas huffed a small laugh and pressed back into Dean before pointing to a picture on the shelf. "That Sam?"

"Yeah, that's him." Dean took the picture down and smiled at it. "This was about two years ago. He talked me into going on a backpacking trip in the Tetons. It's amazing we're still alive because neither of us had a fucking clue what we were doing. He brought a bunch of food that spoiled within the first two days."

"If neither of you are backpackers…" Cas started and Dean shook his head and laughed.

"Don't ask. When you meet Sam, you'll get it. When he gets an idea in his head it doesn't go away until he's done it. Kid's a bulldog."

"So how did you survive?"

"Thankfully not _everything_ he brought spoiled. And we were only out for four days. I made him buy me the most gigantic steak in Jackson when we made it back to civilization and didn't talk to him for a couple of weeks after."

"My brother Gabriel," Cas said, laughing. "He's two siblings older than me. He used to get me in _so much_ trouble when we were kids."

"Older brothers are supposed to get their kid brothers into trouble. It's a solemn vow we take," Dean proclaimed and Cas laughed.

"Gabe took getting into trouble to a whole other level. When he landed me in jail at fourteen for stealing a car, I kind of backed away."

"Ouch," Dean said. He was trying not to be distracted by how good Cas smelled but his lips found the long line of Cas’ neck again. "Did he figure himself out?"

"Ish," Cas shrugged, tilting his head as Dean's explorations expanded. "He spent an unfortunate fifteen years in prison for possession with intent to sell and assault with a deadly weapon. But he cleaned himself up and now he's a line cook at a diner."

"Anywhere I know?" Dean asked. He was always ready for some good diner food, but Cas shook his head.

"Not unless you get to Wichita often," he said and Dean sighed.

"No, I don't."

"I promise," Cas said, turning to face Dean. "I'll make you some killer blueberry pancakes one morning." He paused and looked down and Dean knew what was coming. "Look, Dean. I'm sorry if what I said earlier upset you…"

"No," Dean interrupted. "It's fine. It's true, but…" He shrugged. "It's fine." And then, because he wasn't sure where to go with that line of conversation, he kissed Cas. Cas was willing to be distracted because he responded immediately and soon they were laid out on the couch, Cas beneath Dean, making out, their hands roaming wherever they could reach. It took a few pushes against Dean's shoulders for him to register that Cas was saying something and that someone was ringing the doorbell.

"Great," Dean mumbled as he stood. Cas laughed because there was no way Dean was going to be able to conceal his raging hard on in the sweats he was wearing. "You go get it," he whined, but Cas gestured down to his own crotch, which was also sporting a pretty obvious erection.

"Oh my god," Dean grumbled as he shuffled down the hall to the front door. He sort of hid behind the door as he signed the credit card receipt and gathered all the food. The delivery guy looked kind of amused, so Dean wondered if he looked more wrecked than he thought. But it didn't matter, because soon the door was closed and Dean was heading back to the living room. He set the bags down on the table and Cas started unloading the food.

"You weren't kidding about one of everything," Dean laughed and Cas leveled a serious gaze at him.

"I never kid about _nam nuang_."

For a second Dean thought Cas was serious, but then he saw that mischievous glint in Cas eye and laughed. "What the fuck is nam nuang?"

"Fresh rolls, essentially. I thought you said you ordered from here," Cas said and Dean looked a little chagrined.

"I mostly order the shrimp pad thai," he admitted and Cas stopped mid motion.

"You order the pad thai," Cas repeated and Dean nodded. "Well," he said, setting down the container he still had in his hand, "you are in for a pleasant awakening to the delights of Thai food."

They uncovered everything and then Cas proceeded to feed Dean bits of each, explaining what it was and what was in it before he offered a new bite. Before they were halfway through everything Cas had ordered, Cas was straddling Dean's lap feeding him the bits of food with his fingers rather than chopsticks like they'd started with. Dean sucked Cas’ fingers, enjoying their taste as much as the food. When Cas reached for another bite, Dean grabbed his wrist.

"I'm full," he growled, and Cas moaned and leaned forward to kiss him. It took a long time before they made it up to Dean's bedroom, and when they were both finally stretched out and naked, Cas asked if he had supplies.

"I thought we established that I'm still too sore," Dean said and Cas pulled a face.

"Not everything is about you, drama queen. I want you to fuck me."

Dean's breath hitched at that. "Are you sure?"

"It's not my first time, Dean. Yeah, I'm sure."

Dean kissed him hard and then leaned over to the nightstand to pull out the lube and condoms. He took his time opening Cas up, kissing, licking and sucking until Cas was shivering with need.

"I want to ride you," Cas breathed against Dean's mouth. Dean grunted when Cas flipped them and then straddled him. He smiled down at Dean as he reached over and tore open the condom packet. "Same rules as last night, alright?" he said after he spat out the strip of foil.

Dean nodded, his hands gripping Cas’ thighs, and licked his lips as Cas reached down and rolled the condom onto his cock. Cas’ hands were warm on Dean's belly and chest as they slid up and over his shoulders. He planted his hands on either side of Dean's head and leaned down to brush his lips over Dean's.

"Spread me open, Dean," he murmured and Dean thought he might spontaneously combust. "Put yourself inside me."

"Jesus," Dean said shakily and slid his hands around to the globes of Cas’ ass to pull them apart. Dean shifted so he could catch the head of his cock in his fingers and bring it to Cas’ wet hole. He turned his head and kissed Cas’ arm as he tilted his hips up, pushing into Cas’ body. It was tight and hot and Dean shuddered when Cas arched his back to force Dean deeper into himself. Dean's hands shifted to Cas’ hips and pulled him down farther, pressing his hips up higher until he was fully seated inside Cas’ body. Dean looked up at Cas’ face and let his gaze linger as Cas adjusted to Dean inside him.

Cas’ eyes were closed, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, lips parted. As Dean watched, Cas’ tongue slid out of his mouth to wet his bottom lip before catching it between his teeth, and Dean's breath froze in his chest. Cas was so fucking _beautiful_ that it made Dean's heart ache. When Cas’ eyes opened lazily and smiled down at Dean, Dean knew he was a goner. He wanted those gorgeous blue eyes looking at him like that for the rest of his life, wanted Cas’ body against his. Jesus, he even wanted Cas making fun of what he ate and that terrified him.

"Stop thinking," Cas said, running his hand back through Dean's hair and Dean laughed self-consciously.

"Sorry," he said, as Cas leaned down to kiss him.

"Don't be," Cas said softly and rolled his hips, making Dean gasp. "Just be with me here, okay?"

Dean nodded his head shakily and swallowed because he suddenly felt absurdly close to tears, but he managed to say, "Okay, yes. I'm here with you."

"That's good, Dean. You're so good." Cas sat up and ground down against Dean's hips and Dean's back arched, his grip on Cas’ hips tightening. "There you go. Now your focus is all on me, isn't it?" Dean just groaned in response and Cas chuckled. He started moving on Dean, lifting himself nearly all the way off before sinking slowly back down. Dean lost himself in the sensation of Cas on him, all around him. It was no less overwhelming than last night when Cas was fucking him and Dean's whole body yearned toward him.

They rolled at some point so Dean was on top, Cas’ legs wrapped around his hips, Cas’ mouth on Dean's neck. When Cas dug his fingers into Dean's back, Dean's arousal ratcheted up another notch until he was trembling with the need to come.

"Cas, please, can I…" he choked, and Cas ran his lips up to the shell of Dean's ear.

"No, not yet. I'm not ready." He reached down and grabbed one of Dean's hips, urging him on. "Keep moving, Dean, just like this. You feel so fucking good."

So Dean held on because Cas wanted him to and he wanted to do it for Cas, but his muscles were straining with effort, and sweat was trickling down his back, over his ribs. Cas reached between them and started jerking himself off and Dean lifted himself slightly, his muscles protesting, so he could look down between them and watch.

"As soon as I come, Dean, you can," he breathed and Dean groaned.

"Yes, sir," he said absently and Cas smiled against his skin.

"Come on, Dean. Fuck me harder." Dean's breath was shaky as he snapped his hips forward, making Cas’ body jerk beneath him. Dean whispered Cas’ name over and over, both plea and prayer, and suddenly Cas’ free hand was on the back of Dean's neck, gripping hard. "Fuck, fuck, yes…"

Dean was mesmerized as Cas’ hand slowed, squeezing his dick as he came. Dean wanted to hold on for a few more strokes, fuck Cas through his orgasm, but at the feeling of Cas tightening around him, the sounds he was making, Dean was helpless, unable to hold on. His hips came to a stuttering halt as his orgasm ripped through him. Cas clung to him as they shuddered together, urging Dean to move a little, making Cas spasm again, forcing a groan from his throat. Cas wound his fingers into Dean's hair and pulled him down into a fierce kiss, biting and sucking.

"That was so good, Dean," he panted in between kisses. "You're my good boy," he breathed, releasing his grip on Dean's hair so he could card his fingers through it. Dean shivered against him, basking in the praise, feeling completely fucked out and perfect.

He stayed on top of Cas as long as was comfortable for Cas and then slowly pulled out of him, tying off the condom and tossing it toward the garbage can before settling next to Cas on his side. He put his hand on Cas’ chest, feeling his heartbeat, his chest rising and falling, and leaned over to kiss Cas’ shoulder. He was feeling dangerously sappy. He was starting to drift off to sleep when Cas shifted and pressed a kiss to Dean's forehead.

"I can't stay," he said after Dean's eyes opened. "I have an early morning meeting."

Dean made a sound of protest and pulled Cas in for a kiss. "That's too bad. I was kind of hoping for a repeat of this morning."

"Me too," Cas said. "And if you let me, I will keep you in bed all weekend. But tomorrow morning, I have to be at a meeting with lawyers for a contract negotiation."

"Sounds fun, I'm jealous," Dean said, sitting up along with Cas. He pulled on his sweatpants and then watched as Cas finished getting dressed. He had touched and tasted every part of that body, but he was still amazed by how glorious it was – hard and lean. Cas looked up at him after he'd finished slipping on his shoes and smiled.

"You're staring," he said and Dean smiled back.

"I'm allowed now, aren't I?"

Cas stepped up into his space and kissed him. "You're definitely allowed. And it's good for my ego."

Dean rolled his eyes as Cas stepped away. "I'll have to keep it to a minimum, then."

Dean followed Cas downstairs and kissed him again at the door. "I'll be by the site tomorrow afternoon. See you there?"

"You bet," Cas agreed. "Want to grab lunch?"

Dean lit up, he knew he lit up despite trying not to, but Cas’ answering smile, just as bright as his own, made him feel better. "One?"

Cas nodded, still grinning as he leaned in to press a last kiss to Dean's lips. "See you at one."

Dean leaned his head against the door as he watched Cas step off the porch and head to his Jeep. He knew he should move, knew that he looked like a love-struck fool standing there, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. His head was still leaning against the door, a small smile on his lips, when Cas turned to wave before he got into his car. Dean waved back and finally stood up straight to close the door.

"Jesus," he muttered and pressed his forehead against the closed door. He knew he wasn't in crush territory anymore. Were he being honest with himself, he knew he was already halfway to falling in love. He knew he had to rein it in, too, because he didn't think that was what this was. He figured that once the job was over, he and Cas would go their separate ways. Maybe they'd pick it up again if they worked another job together, because _that's_ what this was and it didn't matter that he was letting his stupid heart get carried away because Cas was fucking perfect.

Dean laughed and pushed away from the door, because _that_ certainly wasn't true. Cas was perfect _in bed_ , but out of it, his moods were temperamental and sometimes downright nasty. Dean suspected it had something to do with the pain Cas was dealing with. If it was, Cas wasn't doing a very good job managing it. But still, ninety percent of the time, Cas was great to be around – funny, smart, skilled.

Sighing, Dean pushed himself up the stairs. He was going to enjoy this thing with Cas for as long as he could, and when it was over, he wasn't going to pine. He was going to put it in a box and put it away, like he did with everything else he didn't want to deal with. He brushed his teeth but decided not to shower until morning. He and his bed both still smelled like Cas and he wanted to keep it that way for a little while longer. Rolling his eyes at himself, he pulled the sheet over his shoulder and drifted off to sleep.


	5. Lettuce Tacos

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Dean had to deal with Alastair's threats and wasted too many hours sitting in Alastair's office going over everything. He had to pay a few bogus fines, but he was happy to do it just to get the bastard off his back. He was juggling the most jobs he'd had since he'd bought Singer's, he was planning Sam's bachelor party, coordinating it with Sam's best friend in California, and doing whatever other best man stuff he could before he got to L.A., and he was spending almost all of his free time with Cas.

Cas had made good on his promise to spend all weekend in bed several times over and Dean sometimes thought he was riding a perpetual high. Because his time with Cas when they were alone was nothing short of perfect. They argued over which was better – Star Wars or Star Trek, Firefly or Buffy. Cas took him around to all his favorite places to eat. They watched movies and sports and never ran out of things to talk about.

In bed, Cas grew steadily more dominant until he forced Dean into a conversation about it because he didn't want to push Dean into something he wasn't comfortable with. So they'd negotiated some boundaries and Dean was enjoying the best sex he'd ever had. The only thing that had ever come close was Crowley, but with Cas, he never felt ashamed the next day.

Dean was running at full throttle, trying to get everything wrapped up before he left for California and Sam's wedding, and his time with Cas the last few days had been scarce. So when he pushed out of Ash's office into the warm summer night, he sighed in frustration. He dialed Cas and leaned back against the wall of the building, smiling when Cas answered.

"I never knew sex lines called back," Cas said instead of hello.

"Only for our preferred customers," Dean said and then broke the bad news. "Listen, this meeting is running really late. I'm not going to make it for dinner."

"That's okay," Cas said, but Dean could hear the hesitation in his voice.

"What is it?" he asked and Cas sighed.

"I don't want to impose…" Cas started and Dean smiled.

"Cas, come on. If it's an imposition I'll tell you. What do you need?" Dean waited through the silence and finally heard Cas sigh again.

"If you could come by after the meeting… I'd…" Cas paused. "I'm going to Wichita tomorrow," he finished and Dean hissed a breath between his teeth.

"Shit, Cas, I'm sorry. I forgot."

"Don't worry, you've been busy. And if you can't come by…" he started but Dean cut him off.

"Don't be stupid. Of course I'll come by. I'll stop by my place to grab some stuff and plan on spending the night, if that's good with you."

"Yeah," Cas said and Dean could hear how relieved and happy he was. "Yeah, that's perfect. I'll keep some dinner aside for you."

"You're an angel. I'll text you when I'm on my way." And as was increasingly the case, Dean had to bite down on an 'I love you' at the end of their conversations. Each time it happened he reminded himself that this relationship wasn't permanent.

"Sounds good," Cas said. "I'll see you when you get here."

Dean slipped his phone into his pocket but stayed leaning against the wall. Try as he might, he'd been unable to rein in the fucking runaway train of his emotions. Every minute he spent with Cas had made falling in love with him inevitable. And Dean couldn't even fool himself anymore. He was head over heels in love with Castiel Novak, and while he knew he was it was going to be heartache when it ended, he was determined to enjoy it while it lasted.

Pushing away from the wall, he sighed and went back into the meeting. They probably still had another hour to go and it was already eight, but since they were actually making progress, it was hard to complain. Maybe the best part was that Crowley had lost whatever power he'd held over Dean. When the inevitable come on had come, Dean hadn't had to think twice. The no had come easily and instantly. All he could think was that he had Cas waiting for him, waiting to use Dean just how they both wanted, and leaving Dean feeling exultant rather than miserable. And maybe some of that had shown on his face because Crowley had backed down immediately and without any argument. Dean went back into the meeting without ever looking at Crowley again and took his seat next to Jody.

"Get ahold of your boyfriend?"

Dean didn't bother correcting her because he liked the sound of it. "Yeah. I'm gonna head over when we're done."

"So no chance for a drink after this is over?" she asked with a knowing smile and Dean smiled back.

"No, sorry." If anyone knew the extent of Dean's feelings for Cas, it was Jody, and she smiled at him and patted his arm.

"I think I can deal with that. You have fun."

"I always do," Dean answered as the meeting got back underway. He gave his full attention to the meeting, but part of him kept an eye on the time, counting down the minutes until they were out. When Ash finally called it quits at nearly nine-thirty, Dean gathered up his stuff, kissed Jody on the cheek, and hauled ass out of there. He hurried home, stuffed some clean clothes into a backpack, and then ran back out to his truck. Thankfully, it wasn't a long ride to Cas’ house and as soon as Cas opened the door Dean tossed his bag to the floor and crowded Cas up against the wall and kissed him breathless. When Dean finally pulled back, Cas looked up him, blue eyes shining.

"Want some dinner?" he panted and Dean reached down to cup Cas’ ass and hoist him up. A laugh was startled out of Cas and he gripped Dean's shoulders, wrapped his legs around Dean's waist. "I take it that's a no," he said and Dean leaned in and kissed him again.

"That's a no," Dean agreed and then pulled away from the wall, still holding Cas. He carried him back to the bedroom, not bothering to turn on the lights. He laid Cas on the bed and slowly undressed him, lavishing his skin with bites and kisses.

"Cas," he whispered in the dark. "Can I…"

"Yes, Dean," he said, kissing Dean, holding him close. "Yes. I want you inside me."

Dean ran his hands over Cas’ body, marveling the in the hard planes that were his to touch, to taste. And so he took advantage, worshipped Cas’ body, told him with his hands and mouth what he couldn't say with words. And when Dean pushed inside him, he buried his face in the crook of Cas’ neck and breathed him in. Cas’ hands gripped him tight and Dean imagined that Cas was saying the same thing.

Later, when the sweat was cooling on their bodies, Cas was lying with his head pillowed on Dean's belly. He looked up suddenly.

"Something tells me you're ready for dinner now."

Dean laughed. "That's not fair. You have insider information."

Cas shifted so he could kiss Dean. "No, that was you tonight."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You are the cheesiest cheese ball in existence. But you're right. I'm hungry now that I've worked up an appetite," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Oh brother," Cas groaned. "And I'm the cheesy one?"

Dean looked up at Cas, his breath suddenly taken away at how happy he was. He touched Cas’ face, running his fingers over the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, brushing his thumb over his lips. "Yeah," he said softly. "You're the cheesy one."

Cas kissed Dean's thumb as it passed over his lips, his gaze soft as he looked down at Dean. His gaze searched Dean's face for a long moment before he said, "Dean…"

Dean's heart seized in his chest because he was sure Cas was about to tell him he loved him. He brushed his fingers over Cas’ cheek, silent permission for Cas to say it and Cas turned his head to kiss Dean's fingers. He closed his eyes for a moment and when they opened again, Dean knew the moment had passed.

"Let me put the steak in the oven for you?" Cas said and Dean's fingers stilled where they brushed across Cas’ cheek. He pressed his palm against the stubbled skin there for a moment and then nodded.

"Yeah, that sounds good," he said, no bitterness in his words because he'd had a sudden epiphany. Just as he was telling Cas he loved him with his body, Cas was saying it too, just with the foods he loved. So Dean kissed him and then asked, "What do you have for me?"

They both pulled on sweatpants and headed toward the kitchen. Cas explained the food on the way, but mostly what Dean got was that there was meat that he should wrap in lettuce with some other stuff. He was less than excited about it, but when Cas showed him how to put it together and squeezed some hot sauce on it, Dean couldn't believe how good it was.

"How does a lettuce taco taste this good? This goes against nature."

Cas was grinning, clearly pleased at his success as Dean wolfed down everything Cas had laid out. "I hope you didn't want leftovers," he said shamefacedly as he licked a last bit of juice from his hand and Cas shook his head.

"Nope. I'm glad you liked it," Cas said, still grinning.

"I still can't believe a lettuce taco tasted that great," Dean mused, helping Cas clean up.

"Technically it's a lettuce wrap," Cas corrected and Dean groaned.

"Stop. I've already lost enough man-cred by eating like five. I don't need to know they're called lettuce _wraps_. Jesus."

Cas laughed and kissed Dean's shoulder. "You're man enough for me," he said and Dean felt warmth bloom in his chest.

"Aw, you say the sweetest things," Dean said so he wouldn't say something else.

They cleaned up the kitchen and then collapsed on Cas’ couch to watch some TV. It was so domestic, so perfect, that it made Dean simultaneously happy and sad. He wondered, after the job was over, if he suggested that they keep seeing each other Cas would agree. Surely he would. After all, Dean had been sure Cas was going to tell him he loved him and then realized that Cas was already saying it with food. So he'd want to keep this going, right? Maybe, Dean thought suddenly, he was thinking about this all wrong.

He'd put an expiration date on this relationship, thought _Cas_ had put an expiration date on it that very first time he'd asked Dean out. But had he really? It had been nearly a month ago, but Dean tried to recall that surreal conversation. Had Cas said anything about the job? About how long this would last? He couldn't remember exactly, but Dean didn't think so. Had he come up with that on his own, he wondered? Had he randomly decided that this thing with Cas was finite? The more he thought about it, the more he thought it might be true. Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with him?

He looked at Cas; the blue light from the TV cast his features in stark relief, the scruff on his cheeks looking even darker than usual, the straight line of his nose, his plush lips. He'd tried, unconsciously or not, to end this before it really had a chance to get started. This quirky, beautiful, amazing man, who probably knew Dean better than anyone had in a long time, was the only person Dean had _let_ know him in so very long…. He was about to let this just… end because he, what? Was afraid of someone getting too close? Didn't think he was worth something serious? Thought that maybe, in the end, he'd turn out like his dad?

Dean reached out and touched Cas then, because, no. He wasn't his father, and he deserved this. He was scared yes, but when Cas turned to look at him, a question in his eyes, Dean smiled, because this was Cas. And Dean, for whatever crazy reason, felt comfortable with him, safe, like he'd known Cas a thousand years.

"Let's go to bed," he said and he knew everything he was feeling – everything he wanted – bled through the words, but he didn't care. He wanted Cas to know, but was still too scared to tell him. He would continue to tell him with his body and maybe Cas would keep telling him with his food.

Cas looked away and reached for the remote to turn off the TV. When he turned back to Dean, the only the light was from the big picture window and Cas’ features were in even more stark contrast than before. His blue eyes were black in this light and Dean could almost feel the weight of their gaze on him. Dean felt utterly incapable of schooling his features so he didn't bother trying, just looked down. Cas’ finger under his chin surprised him and he looked up reflexively. Cas held his gaze for a long beat before tracing over his features slowly with his fingers. Dean leaned into the touch and the light in Cas’ eyes flared.

"What do you want, Dean?" Cas asked, but Dean couldn't answer him because what he wanted was Cas. All he wanted was Cas. Cas’ thumb rubbed gently over Dean's cheekbone. "It's okay, Dean. Tell me. What do you want?"

Dean licked his lips. His heart was thundering in his chest so hard he almost couldn't breathe. "You," he said finally, scared out of his mind, but trusting that Cas would catch him. "You, Cas. I want you."

Cas didn't say anything and Dean's heart rate tripled, thinking he'd made a truly horrible mistake, but then Cas’ thumb drew over his cheekbone again and said, "That's good, because I want you, too." He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Dean's mouth. "I want you, Dean."

Dean leaned his forehead against Cas’ and brought his hand up to wrap around the back of Cas’ neck. He was trembling all over with the biggest adrenaline rush of his life. He wasn't sure what had just happened but he kind of felt like he'd been asleep his whole life and now he was he fucking _flying_ in clear blue skies and Cas hadn't let him fall.

"Want to go to bed, now?" Cas asked and Dean laughed, feeling lighter than air.

"Hell yes."

When they got to Cas’ room, Dean pulled off his sweats and climbed onto the bed. He knelt, knees spread and gestured to Cas. Cas stripped and joined Dean on the bed. Cas touched Dean like he was something precious but not fragile. His fingers dug into Dean's muscles, his teeth scraped his skin. He knew exactly how to use Dean, to wind him tight, bring him right to the edge and keep him there. Dean panted into the sheets, aching and open, and Cas pushed him farther, higher. The only thing Dean knew was Cas. His smell, the feel of his skin, the sound of his voice. And when Cas finally pushed into him, stealing Dean's breath, Dean was perfectly present and clear. He felt everything from where Cas was pinning his hands at the small of his back, to the weave of the sheet under his cheek. He begged Cas for more because this was freedom and perfection and Cas was giving it all to him – and when Cas finally told him to come, he did, completely untouched.

Cas took care of him after, cleaning the semen off him, rubbing his shoulders, kissing him, running his fingers through Dean's hair. It wasn't all that different from how Cas normally was after sex; he always took care of Dean, gave him everything he needed, but now his touch seemed full with something else, whatever had transpired between them in the living room. Dean soaked it up, returned it with everything he had. He finally fell asleep with Cas held tight against his chest, his nose in Cas’ hair.

As he was just on the edge of sleep, he murmured, "I love you," and was asleep before he heard if Cas said it back.


	6. Family Business

The next morning Cas nudged Dean awake at six and Dean hit him with a pillow.

"Let's go for a run," Cas said. Dean scowled at him.

"How are you so perky?" Dean mumbled, hitting him again with the pillow.

"Come on," Cas whined. "I know you brought your shoes."

"Ugh," Dean groaned, but rolled out of bed. He shot Cas dirty looks the whole time he was getting dressed. Looks that said 'we could be having sex right now,' but Cas either didn't notice or was ignoring him. When they got outside Cas said, "I figured five miles?" and before Dean could protest he was off.

"Fuck," Dean muttered and started after Cas. The pace wasn't bad, though, so Dean didn't complain. But just as he was starting to feel really warmed up, Cas put on the speed. Dean managed to keep up but this was way faster than his normal pace. By the time they made it back to Cas’ place Dean had a massive stitch in his side and he was breathing like a bellows and sweating like a pig. Cas, the bastard, was barely breathing hard and just had a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"God," Dean gasped. "You do this every day?"

Cas laughed, looking at Dean walking in circles, his hand pressed to his side where the stitch was, and said, "That was short." Dean shot him a venomous look and Cas laughed harder. "Come on, let's walk around the block."

"No wonder your ass is so fantastic," Dean said once he got his breath back. "I'm afraid to ask what your 10k pace is."

"A little over seven minutes," Cas said and Dean shook his head.

"Jesus."

They finished the loop around the block, Dean's stitch finally worked out, and went back inside.

"Since I worked you like a dog, let me make it up to you with a blowjob in the shower," Cas said.

Dean peeled off his t-shirt and used it to mop sweat off his face and neck. "Now that's an idea I can get behind."

Dean repaid the blowjob with a slow, torturous hand job that left Cas so weak in the knees that Dean had to hold him up.

"So, I'm hoping to be back tonight," Cas said later, as they were eating breakfast.

"That why you packed an overnight bag?" Dean questioned and Cas arched an eyebrow.

" _Hoping_ ," he emphasized. "It's my family, though, so you never know."

"Is it some kind of reunion or something?" Dean asked. Apart from telling Dean he was going, he'd been extremely tight lipped about the whole thing.

"Yeah. A reunion." Cas laughed humorlessly and shoved a bite of cereal into his mouth. His horrible bran cereal. Dean drug his spoon through the Fruity Pebbles Cas had made sure to stock since their first morning together.

"You know, I have some experience with fucked up families…" he started, but Cas cut him off.

"Don't. Look I appreciate it, but…." He sighed and put down his bowl. "It's… My family's not that special. We have our moments, sure, but we're basically pretty run of the mill. I'm going down for… family business."

Cas’ face was pinched, his shoulders tense, and this was clearly a conversation he wanted to end so Dean ate a bite of his cereal and said, with his mouth purposely full, "Well, sounds like a barrel of monkeys. I'll make sure no one blows up your house."

Cas shot him a grateful look and they finished the rest of their breakfast in companionable silence.

"I'll text you when I know if I'll be staying overnight," Cas said as Dean gathered up his stuff to leave.

"Sounds good. I hope the business goes quickly."

"Yeah," Cas said, his expression turning dark and sad. "Me too."

"Hey," Dean said and put his hand on Cas’ arm. "Call me if you need anything, alright?"

Cas’ lips pressed down into a thin line but he nodded shortly and said, "Thanks."

"Drive safe," Dean said and leaned in for a kiss. Cas kissed him but his body was stiff. "I'll see you later."

Dean was about to turn to leave when Cas caught his wrist. "Thank you, Dean. Really."

"You're welcome, Cas. Come home soon," he said and Cas smiled.

"As soon as I can."

As Dean drove to work, he wondered what family business Cas needed to take care of and why it had him so worked up. Especially when Cas said his family wasn't that crazy. He didn't talk about his family much and when he did, it was mostly about his brother Gabriel, stories from their childhood. He wondered if maybe it had something to do with Gabriel. Or maybe one of his parents had died. Surely he'd have told Dean if that had happened... But actually, Dean wasn't so sure he would. Cas was very choosy about the information he shared; Dean had met several of his friends and knew a lot about Naomi and their divorce, but Cas refused to talk about how he broke his back. And when it came to his family, he was extremely tight lipped.

He turned it over in his mind a while longer, but as soon as he got to the office he was forced to back burner it for everything else that demanded his attention. In the middle of the day he got a call from Sam.

"Hey, Sam, hang on," he said instead of hello and then looked back at Benny. "It looks great, man. I'll do the walk-through with the homeowners tomorrow and that'll be a wrap."

"Thank fucking god," Benny exclaimed and Dean laughed.

"Can you get over to 553 Southerland? Jack's wife went into labor and they're doing a big install today."

"You got it, brother. I'll see you later."

Dean slapped him on the shoulder and brought his phone back to his ear. "Heya, Sammy. Sorry about that."

"No problem. Busy?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," Dean said. "So what's up?"

They talked about a few logistical things for the wedding and the bachelor party, Dean walking through the house, checking things out as they talked. As he was locking up, ready to head to his next meeting, Sam asked, "Cas still coming?"

"Far as I know. He's not coming out until next Friday, though. He's got some family stuff that's come up, though, so I'm not sure if he'll actually make it."

"That's too bad," Sam said. "I hope he can. I'm really looking forward to meeting him."

"Yeah, I hope he can, too. Listen Sam, I gotta run. Anything else?"

"Not right now." Sam paused. "I'm really looking forward to seeing you, Dean. It's been too long."

"Yeah, it has. I'm looking forward to it, too. I'll see you on Friday."

He was smiling as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. He and Sam had gone through a long period, after Sam had left for Stanford, where they hadn't talked at all. Dean had felt so betrayed that Sam had left him after everything they'd been through together with their father and his alcoholism, all the times Dean had put himself between Sam and their father's fists. But as Dean started building his own life – a life that didn't revolve around Sam or their father – he'd been able to see that Sam had needed to escape the specter of their father. After he'd realized that, reaching out to Sam had been easy.

The rest of his day flew by. He checked his phone occasionally to see if there was a message from Cas, but there was nothing so far. The longer it went without word, the more Dean was sure that Cas would be spending the night. It wasn't until almost eleven that he heard from Cas.

Dean was already in bed reading, thinking about packing it in for the night, when his cell phone rang.

"Hey Cas," he said, more glad than he would have believed at getting the call.

"Hello Dean. I'm sorry it's so late."

Dean could tell from the sound of his voice that Cas was in one of his moods, that he'd need to tread lightly. "Don't worry about it. I was up, reading. So, I guess you're staying the night."

"Guess so," he said flatly. "I'm… I'm going to be here longer than I anticipated. I might not make it back in time to take you to the airport."

"Hey, Cas, don't worry about it," he said, sitting up. Dean wasn't scheduled to leave until Friday and it was only Tuesday. For Cas’ trip to have gone from one day to maybe four, something must have gone wrong. He vacillated about whether he should ask Cas if everything was okay and finally decided. "Is everything alright?"

"No," Cas said and Dean was almost sure Cas was either crying or near tears and he wanted to comfort him but he knew Cas wouldn't accept it.

"I'm sorry," he said instead and heard Cas take a shaky breath.

"Yeah. Everyone's sorry and no one's doing shit." Cas sighed. "Sorry. Being with my family all day has me on edge."

"It's alright. I don't suppose you want to talk about it?"

"No." Cas’ response was immediate and harsh. "It's private and I don't want to discuss it."

"Okay, you don't have to. Just thought I'd ask." Dean said, wishing Cas were here rather than in Wichita so Dean could touch him.

"You know what, it's been a really long day." Cas’ voice was thick and this time Dean was sure he was crying. "I'm going to go before I say something I can't take back."

"Alright, Cas," Dean said softly, his heart aching. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Cas laughed humorlessly. "Sure. Night, Dean."

"Night, Cas," he said but the line went dead before he could finish.

He put his cell back on the nightstand, his mind whirling. Whatever was going on in Wichita had Cas seriously fucked up. Maybe one of his parents _had_ died. Dean desperately wished that Cas would talk to him, would let him help shoulder whatever this burden was, but Cas was obviously determined to handle it himself. Not that he was actually handling it all that well, in Dean's opinion, if he couldn't even have a brief conversation with Dean without snapping.

Dean turned off the light and slid under the covers before pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He'd suspected Cas was abusing his pain medications for a while now. He knew that Cas was taking Oxycodone, had found out when Cas had left his prescription bottle out one night. He'd looked at the label, how many pills the prescription was for and how many pills were in the bottle. There had been too few pills left for when the prescription had been written, but Cas had broken his back and Dean knew he was still in pain. He hadn't thought too much about it until he remembered Cas’ mood swings. But it wasn't like Cas was a junkie… He owned and operated his own business and did it well. He had friends, he met his obligations, took care of his responsibilities. So Dean had put it out of his mind for the most part, but now he worried that the stress of whatever Cas was going through in Wichita was going to push him into something worse, into taking too much.

It took Dean a long time to fall asleep, and when he finally did, he slept poorly, his dreams plagued by chaos and pain.


	7. Talk To Me

The next day Dean worried about Cas all day. It distracted him from everything he was doing, so he comforted himself by sending inconsequential texts to Cas. He forced himself to ration. If he sent one every time he thought about it Cas would have had approximately three hundred and seventy thousand texts by the end of the day. Instead, when he flipped back through the messages he'd sent and counted them, there were only… he cringed. Okay, so maybe he'd sent more than he'd thought. But thirty-two in a day wasn't that bad, right?

He made a disgusted noise and tossed his phone on the coffee table and picked up his container of take out. He'd gotten pad thai, but when he'd thought of Cas’ disapproving eyebrow, had gotten nam nuang, too. He shoved a roll whole into his mouth and then leaned forward to grab his phone. He composed his last text for the day - _I'm funny right? Come on Cas u know my ego is fragile_ \- and hit send. That was a little over an hour ago but there was still no response. Dean glanced at his computer and considered for the thousandth time the wisdom of Googling Cas and his family. It would probably tell him something of what was going on – Novak wasn't too common a surname – but he finally bit down on his inner stalker. Cas would tell him when he was ready.

The next morning, Dean's first thought was of Cas, how he was doing, if he'd finally texted him back. He reached for his phone, feeling a little ridiculous about how desperate he was to hear from him, and sighed heavily when there was still nothing. He tossed the phone onto the bed and got up, getting changed to go for a run. He was kind of pissed that Cas hadn't texted him back, but he knew that wasn't fair. Cas was under some crazy kind of pressure, dealing with a dead parent or something. He had more important things to do than text Dean. But still, it hurt.

He went on his run and then showered, ate breakfast, got ready for his day and tried not to obsess about Cas. He checked his phone again. Still nothing. When he got to work he tossed his phone into a drawer and left it there for the rest of the day. If someone needed to get ahold of him for business, they could call the office. Dean focused almost angrily on his work and when he snapped at Beth near the end of the day, she reached over the desk and turned off his computer monitor.

"That's enough for today," she said, slapping Dean's hand away as he reached to turn the screen back on. "I don't know what crawled up your ass and died, but go home, have a drink."

"Beth, I have things to do. Stop it!" he shouted as she slapped his hand away again.

"Dean Winchester!" Beth shouted back and he looked up at her, startled. He used to hear her use that tone of voice on Bobby when he was being insufferable. He couldn't believe he'd been bad enough to earn it. "Something has clearly gotten your dander up. Now if you want to talk about it, I've got a bottle of bourbon in my drawer and a willing ear. If you don't, get out of my office and stop making my life miserable."

Dean sighed. "Have I really been that bad?"

"You certainly haven't given Bobby a run in terms of bad moods, but you ain't exactly been a ray of sunshine. Now, should I get that bourbon?"

Dean sighed again and shook his head. "No, but thanks Beth. And I'm sorry I've been a bitch all day."

Beth leaned over the desk and patted his cheek. "You tell that boy you're seeing that if he continues to upset you I will take my own frustration out of his hide."

A laugh was startled out of Dean. "I'll make sure to let him know."

"Good," she said with a nod. "Now go home."

"Yes, ma'am." Beth went back out to her desk and Dean gathered his stuff up, leaving his phone until last. He pulled it out of the drawer and shoved it into his pocket without looking to see if he had any notifications. He knew he was being juvenile but he couldn't help it. He was still pissed. He also didn't want to be in the presence of other people when he checked because he was afraid he might do something embarrassing if there was a message. Or even if there wasn't. God he was a mess.

He stopped by a Taco Bell drive through on his way home, deciding to eat his emotions tonight, and ordered six tacos and nachos. When he got home, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down on the couch. He stuffed his face with delicious, crappy food, watched really terrible TV and refused to check his phone. After he cleaned up the aftermath of the Taco Bell he finally pulled his phone out of his pocket and woke it up. There were plenty of notifications - missed calls, emails, texts - but he couldn't tell if any were from Cas. He unlocked the phone and went through everything. He exhaled shakily when he saw a text from Cas and touched it to open it.

_Sorry I didn't call last night I was overwhelmed. I'll call you tonight, maybe late. Miss you._

Dean checked the timestamp and saw that it had come just after noon. It was only six now, so he hit reply and texted back, _Call when you can, whatever time. Miss you, too._

He set the phone on the counter and then leaned back against it, feeling a swell of emotions. Foolishness for being nervous that Cas didn't care, guilt at his anger, guilt that he couldn't do more, delight that Cas had texted, worry over what was still going on. He had the urge, not for the first time, to just get in his truck and drive to Wichita and find Cas and hold him, make him share this burden, but he knew he couldn't. Cas was a grown-ass man and Dean couldn't – nor would Cas appreciate – Dean going all white knight. But every fiber of Dean's being told him to rescue, to save, and those were instincts he was used to heeding. Those were the instincts that had kept Sam unhurt and him alive throughout their childhood. It's what Dean did. He saved the people he loved. Or he tried to, at least. God knew he failed often enough.

He shook those thoughts off and pushed away from the counter, heading back into the living room. He did some paperwork as he half-watched Property Brothers – his mind filling in Cas’ snarky commentary – and waited for Cas to call. He brushed his teeth and changed into sleep clothes. He read his book. _Tried_ to read his book. Eventually he tossed it back on his nightstand, grabbed his phone, and went back downstairs to watch TV until Cas called. He flipped through what was on and finally settled on RuPaul's Drag Race reruns on Logo because nothing else appealed and he was man enough to admit that he liked the show and kinda loved RuPaul.

He'd sunk down into the cushions of the couch, almost all the way asleep, his TV showing an infomercial for the Flex Belt, when his phone finally rang. He was so startled that when he fumbled it to his ear he just said, "Cas?"

He heard Cas’ low chuckle before he said, "Yeah, it's me. Did I wake you?"

Dean rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock on the dvr. It was just after midnight. "Yeah, I guess you did, but I'm glad. I was waiting for your call."

"Oh yeah?" Cas said, sounding hopeful and happy.

"Yeah, I was. It's been lonely around here without you."

There was a long pause from Cas’ side and Dean wondered if he'd said something to set Cas off, but then there was long sigh. "I miss you so much, Dean," he said, his voice shaky.

"I miss you, too, Cas. I can't wait for you to get home. I can't wait to kiss you."

"God, I want to kiss you so much right now," Cas said, his voice uneven and Dean dropped his feet from where they were propped on the coffee table and leaned forward. He pressed his fingers against his eyes.

"Cas, I want to help you. Please tell me what's going on."

There was a long stretch of silence and Dean braced himself to get his head ripped off again, but instead there was a watery gasp.

"Dean," Cas said and his voice was so full of anguish that Dean couldn't breathe, couldn't say anything. "Please, I…" He heard Cas swallow. "Please," he said again. "Just tell me about your day."

Dean licked his lips. Cas was obviously in so much pain and there was nothing Dean could do for him. Nothing but what he asked, so Dean said, "Yeah, alright," and then started telling Cas about his day. Cas was mostly silent, laughing and commenting in all the right places, but Dean could tell that Cas wasn't fully involved. He finally reached the end of his stories and wanted to ask Cas about his day but he knew that was a bad idea. Instead he said, "I'm about to hire stagers for your place on Ohio. All the work should be done next Wednesday, so you'll probably want to get it on the market soon."

"I think I'm going to hold off on the realtors," Cas said and Dean nodded.

"Alright. Want me to hold off on the stagers?"

"Yeah. I should be back this weekend," Cas replied.

"I might miss you, then. I'm leaving for California tomorrow," Dean said and heard Cas hiss in a breath.

"Fuck, Dean, I'm so sorry," Cas swore and Dean waved a hand even though Cas couldn't see it.

"It's alright," he soothed. "You're obviously dealing with a lot of shit down there."

"Yeah," Cas said. "But I think it's almost over. I hope."

Dean could hear the raw pain in Cas’ voice again and hated whatever put it there. "I hope so, too."

Cas sighed. "I'll let you go. I need to get to sleep, too. It's an early morning tomorrow."

"Okay." He didn't want to let Cas go. He wanted to keep talking to him, comfort him, take away his pain, but he couldn't. "Sleep good."

"You, too," Cas said and Dean could feel the words he wanted to say building in his throat.

 _It's not the right time_ , he told himself, but as the silence stretched out, he could feel the pressure of them building behind his teeth. Finally he blurted, "I love you," and then closed his eyes because Jesus, so not the right time. When Cas didn't answer, Dean sighed. "It's alright, Cas. I shouldn't have dumped that on you. Night."

Cas’ voice was quiet when he said, "Goodnight, Dean."

Dean disconnected the call and flopped back on the couch. God, why hadn't he kept his stupid trap shut? Cas had enough to deal with; he didn't need Dean dropping the L-bomb on him in the middle of it. And Dean had done it to make himself feel better, which just made him mad at himself.

"Fuck," he mumbled and pushed himself up from the couch. He went upstairs to bed, but he laid there for a long time, staring up at the ceiling, his mind running a million miles an hour. He chased his thoughts for a long time, not getting anywhere, before he finally drifted into a fitful sleep.


	8. Scared of Flying

The next morning Dean packed his bags and loaded them into his truck so he could leave for the airport straight from work. His day was busy as he tried to wrap up everything he could. Benny and Adam were going to oversee all the active sites while he was gone and Dean had all the ducks he could lined up. This was the first time he was going to be away from his business, and while he trusted his people, he was still nervous.

Ohio Street was his last stop before he left for the airport in Kansas City because he expected it to be fast, but when he got out of his truck he heard raised voices floating from the house. Dean double timed it getting inside and was shocked to see Cas standing in the kitchen, red-faced and standing toe-to-toe with Rufus, one of the contractors. He couldn't understand what they were saying because they were yelling over one another and it looked like it was about to get ugly. Dean took a few long strides and put himself in between the two men, facing the Rufus.

"Guys, take it easy!" He had to shout to be heard over them. Rufus took a step back and then jabbed a finger at Cas.

"Tell this fucking nut job to back off, Winchester. I know how to do my job," Rufus shouted and Dean felt Cas bump against his back, like he wanted to get back in the guy's face.

"Then why does it look like a fucking five year old did it?"

Rufus sucked in a breath and Dean held up his hands. "Let's just take a step back, get some distance. Cas, come on. Walk with me for a minute."

"Walk with you?" Cas spat. "I don't want to walk with you, Dean. I want this jackass to fix his mistake."

Rufus started to talk behind him but Dean talked over him, focusing on Cas. Dean had never seen him like this. Cas was sweating, red-faced, breathing hard. Dean could see a fine tremor running through his body. He wanted to get Cas out of here, calm him down, figure out what was wrong with him.

"I'll get it fixed, Cas, whatever it is." He put his hand on Cas’ arm. "Just, come on. Let's go outside, get some air."

"I'm sorry," Cas said, shaking Dean's hand from his arm. "Are you under the impression that because we're fucking you can pull shit over on me?"

Dean stood thunderstruck. He heard someone whisper, "Holy shit," and felt himself flush hot and cold simultaneously.

"I'm under the impression," he said as evenly as he could, "that I'm your contractor and that you trust me to get this fixed."

"What have you been doing while this hack has been fucking up the tiling?"

"Cas," Dean said, his voice warning. "Leave. Let me deal with this."

A muscle in Cas’ jaw jumped and his lips thinned down to nothing. "Just because you like taking it up the ass, Dean, doesn't mean I do," Cas hissed and Dean actually felt his knees go watery for a second.

"Get out," Dean said, his voice flat and hard. He couldn't believe Cas had just said that to him in a room full of workmen. What the fuck was going on? "Get away from me, Cas. Right now."

Cas’ face went through several changes before he looked away, his shoulders going up. He started to say something but stopped himself and looked up at Dean. Dean thought he saw pain there, and confusion, but he was so livid that he didn't care. Suddenly Cas turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen. Dean watched him go, shaking with adrenaline and _hurting_. He hadn't realized it was possible to hurt this much without bleeding. Suddenly he realized that you could hear a pin drop in the room and that everyone was staring at him.

"What the fuck is everyone looking at?" he barked. "Get to work!"

Everyone scattered and Dean took a steadying breath before he turned back to Rufus. Rufus, the bastard, was smiling.

"Well that certainly was not pretty."

"What was he pissed about?" Dean asked, ignoring him.

"Beats the hell outta me. It's only happenstance that I was here at all; just came by to check in and found him reaming out my guy. Naturally I had to step in."

Dean looked at the tiling, scrutinizing it for any faults in the laying but he couldn't see any. "It's fine," Dean said finally. "Perfect."

"Damn straight," Rufus interjected.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with him like that. He's not usually…"

"I'm sorry _you_ had to deal with him that way. That man's got a razor for a tongue."

"Yeah," Dean said, the hurt stabbing through him again. "Listen, just have your guy finish this up. Cas'll come back to his senses eventually and I've got a plane to catch."

"Talk to you later, Dean. Shalom."

"See ya, Rufus."

Dean walked out to his truck in a daze. He could see a couple of the workmen by the dumpster, heads together, staring at him. Dean wasn't in the closet, hadn't been since college, but most of the workmen on site weren't his friends and so knew nothing about his life. And even though this was Lawrence, it was still Kansas. He wondered if the situation would blow up, if he'd lose workers. He thought it was a distinct possibility. But he walked past them, head up, and didn't spare them a glance. Fuck them if they had a problem with him being gay.

And fuck Cas, he thought as he got into his truck. _Fuck_ him. Dean gripped the steering wheel hard, rage starting to burn right behind his breastbone, pushing out the hurt and betrayal. What the fuck was wrong with him? Dean started the truck and headed for the highway on autopilot, his mind in chaos. He'd seen Cas pissed before and he'd had his head bitten off when Cas was in one of his moods, but this had been something else entirely. The look in Cas’ eyes… Dean hadn't recognized him at all and that was terrifying. Had Cas snapped? Had whatever happened in Wichita knocked him completely off his rocker?

Dean's thoughts continued to chase each other around his head, his emotions being yanked along for the ride. At some point he started to cry, the tears leaking from his eyes and sliding down his cheeks, following the curve of his jaw to wet his neck and the collar of his shirt. _Why?_ It echoed in his head until he couldn't think anything else. Why would Cas do that to him? He thought Cas had loved him, or at least cared about him, but there hadn't been any love in the man that had shouted those things at Dean.

Dean wiped his eyes roughly and looked in his rearview mirror so he could change lanes and pull into the breakdown lane. His fingers were locked around the steering wheel as he sat there, shaking and crying, pissed and feeling like a fucking idiot. He drove the heel of his hand into the steering wheel and then, because it hurt and felt good, he did it again. The dull throb in his hand gave him something other than his thoughts to focus on and he took a few minutes to just breathe. He had to get his shit together. He needed to get to Kansas City, get on a plane, watch his brother get married, and fucking forget about Cas.

Dean lifted the hem of his shirt and rubbed it over his face, wiping away the wetness, before putting the truck in drive and pulling back onto the road. He turned the radio up loud, drowning out his thoughts by singing along to Deep Purple. He wasn't going to brood on this and he wasn't going to think about Cas. When he got to the airport he parked in long-term parking and checked in, checking his baggage and shrugging his carry-on onto his shoulder. He trudged through security with everyone else and then found the first bar he could. When he sat down he pointed at the Johnnie Walker.

"Hit me," he said.

The bartender pulled down the bottle and then set a glass in front of Dean. He poured a shot and Dean swallowed it down.

"Scared of flying?" the bartender asked

Dean's eyebrows went up and he nodded. With everything going on he'd completely forgotten to dread the flight. "Yeah. I am." He laughed softly and tapped the rim. "Get with the liquid comfort."

"Mmm," the bartender hummed and refilled Dean's glass. "That sounds like more than a fear of flying."

Dean stared at his glass and swirled the liquid. "Yeah," he said and brought the glass to his lips. He savored the burn, the warmth as it spread through his chest.

"She dump you?" the bartender asked and Dean set his glass down again, continued to stare at it.

" _He_ said some really unforgivable things to me," Dean said, emphasizing Cas’ gender, part of him hoping that the bartender would make something of it. But the bartender just nodded and poured Dean another drink.

"Fuck him," he said and then replaced the bottle. "That one's on the house, but I'm cutting you off."

Dean nodded his thanks and then held up his glass. "Fuck him."

"Atta boy," the bartender said with a wink. "Have a good flight."

Dean nursed his last drink until he heard the boarding call for his flight and then pulled out some cash to settle his bill. Getting onto his flight and settling into his seat was uneventful and he sweated his way through takeoff. He wanted to order another drink, another dozen, but there was no way in hell he was showing up in LA shitfaced. Sam didn't deserve that.

So he white-knuckled his way through the flight and tried to ignore the pain at Cas’ betrayal that wanted to rise. He kept coming back to why. He couldn't understand _why_. So he put his a hand over his eyes and folded his pain and humiliation and betrayal up into a tight bundle that he put into a box and shoved into the back of his mind. He didn't have time to deal with this; he didn't _want_ to deal with this.

Before Cas, he'd resigned himself to being alone and hadn't minded all that much. He'd been okay with it. But once Cas had crashed into his life with his awkwardness and beautiful blue eyes, Dean had started to see a life shared with someone else. Had started to crave someone to wake up to, someone who knew him, someone to touch him just how he wanted. He'd come to want Cas and Cas had crushed him. He'd _let_ Cas crush him, had given Cas that power over him. So he sealed the box and put it in another box because he never wanted to think about Cas again, never wanted to feel this pain again.

By the time the time his flight landed, his emotions were neatly tucked away and he was able to hug Sam without breaking down in tears again. Sam took him back to the place he shared with Jess and he hugged her tight, for just a second envying what Sam had with her. But then he let her and his envy go.

"Place smells amazing," he said with a grin and she squeezed his arm.

"My semi-homemade pasta sauce is legendary," she said and then turned back into the kitchen. "Want some wine?"

Dean didn't really do wine but he said yes, because he knew he wanted to drink a lot and that the wine would prevent him from doing so. He accepted his glass and then, after his offer of help was refused, followed Sam out onto the balcony.

Sam grabbed him unexpectedly in a hug, and Dean narrowly avoided spilling wine down his brother's back.

"God, it's good to see you, man. It's been what? A year?"

"More," Dean said as Sam let him go. "Last time I saw you was graduation."

"No shit?" Sam snorted. "Damn, Dean. It's been too long."

"Yeah it has," Dean said.

They talked for a long time, pausing to have dinner, and then retiring back to the porch. By the time they finally went to bed it was the wee hours of the morning and they were both struggling to keep their eyes open.

The next day Sam and Jess took Dean sightseeing, hitting the highlights they'd missed last time Dean had visited. That night, Dean and Sam's friend hosted Sam's bachelor party. They had the requisite strippers and obscene amounts of liquor. And at some point, Dean found himself in a bedroom, pressed up against the door while a guy whose name he'd forgotten sucked him off. When they rejoined the party, he noticed Sam giving him a strange look, but he ignored it.

"What was that about?" Sam slurred later as they took a cab home.

"What?" Dean said, not opening his eyes. He didn't want to have this conversation.

"You and that guy. I thought you were with Cas."

"Yeah," Dean said flatly. "And that guy and I were just talking about paying the strippers."

"M'kay," Sam said and Dean was eternally grateful that Sam was drunk enough just to have accepted it. He hoped Sam was drunk enough that he wouldn't remember it tomorrow, either.

Dean seemed to get his wish because the next morning they all went to breakfast together and Sam announced that he was going to teach Dean how to surf.

Dean shook his said and said, "No you're not," but somehow that afternoon he found himself tugging self-consciously at his rented wetsuit and holding Sam's extra board.

"I'm going to drown," Dean said. "And I look like a walrus."

"You're not going to drown and you look fine. Look, those girls are checking you out."

Dean looked over to see that yes, there was a little group of women lounging on their towels checking them both out. He smiled and gave them a little wave and looked back at Sam. "If you're so intent on killing me, let's just do this."

Dean expected to hate surfing, but after failing miserably on his first attempts to stand, he finally caught the rhythm of the waves. The next one that came rolling in, he caught perfectly and rode it all the way to shore. He laughed and turned to watch Sammy roll in behind him. They spent all day on the water, sitting on their boards and chatting through the doldrums, whooping and laughing when they caught the waves. When they finally called it quits, Dean's arms felt like noodles and he was _starving_. They went home to shower and change and pick up Jess, and then went to what Sam claimed was ‘the best burger joint in LA’. Dean inhaled a bacon double cheeseburger and a milkshake and laughed with Sam and Jess, feeling _really_ happy for the first time since he'd left Kansas.

They took a walk along the shore after dinner and after a while Dean noticed Jess squeeze Sam's arm and fall back. _Oh great_ , Dean thought and hoped desperately that this wasn't about last night.

"Is everything alright?" Sam asked finally and Dean sighed.

"Sure. Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "You've just seemed a little bit… off since you got here. And last night, with that guy."

Dean grimaced. "I told you, we were getting the payment for the strippers straightened out," Dean said.

Sam stopped and turned to Dean. "Come on, man. I'm not stupid." He was silent for a moment. "Are you cheating on Cas?"

Dean's jaw clenched and he looked away. "No."

He could feel Sam studying him and god damn his little brother for being so smart. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Dean said, trying to breathe normally.

"Dean, come on," Sam pressed. "I've never heard you sound so happy as you did while you were with Cas."

"Sam just leave it," he barked. "I can't… I can't deal with it right now."

Silence stretched between them, the only sound the surf crashing against the beach. Finally, Sam shoved his hands into his pockets. "Do I need to beat him up for you?"

Dean laughed. "If anyone's going to kick his ass, it'll be me." He exhaled shakily. "But at this point, I don't think I could stand to look at him." His voice broke at the end and he tried to swallow the lump that had formed.

"What did he do?"

Dean shook his head and didn't say anything. He wasn't going to tell Sam how humiliating it had been to hear Cas say those things to him, how much it had hurt. Still hurt. He kicked the box back into the darkest corner of his mind and looked at Sam.

"Come on. Let's go find Jess." He turned away, ending the conversation, and Sam followed him. When they rejoined Jess, conversation stayed casual and firmly in safe territory. Dean could see Sam glance at him now and again and he saw Sam and Jess share a couple of meaningful looks, but otherwise it was pleasant.

When Dean was alone in bed that night, though, he had a hard time keeping the box closed and he throbbed with pain. He looked at his phone, at the voicemail that had been there since yesterday. His finger hovered over the icon wanting to hear Cas’ voice, what he had to say, but at the same time not. Eventually he tossed his phone onto the nightstand and cursed Cas again for doing this to them.

The rest of the week he had the days mostly to himself; Sam and Jess were both working and couldn't take the time off before their wedding so Dean entertained himself with wandering around LA, hiking up to the Hollywood sign, taking out Sam's surfboard. One day he let himself be picked up in a bar and let the guy fuck him. He wanted to blot out the memory of Cas’ hands on him, Cas’ dick inside him, and it did for a little bit, but afterwards, all he could think of was Cas. How Cas knew how to read him and use him just how he needed, and how Cas would take care of him when they were done. He left the guy's apartment feeling agitated and decided to go for a run, but it didn't help and he was moody and cranky all night. That night he stared at the voicemail icon again, but this time he pressed it and brought the phone to his ear.

"Dean. I… there's nothing I can say after what I said yesterday. It…." He heard Cas sigh. "You don't deserve excuses, Dean, but that week in Wichita, it…" He trailed off again. "Dean, I'm so sorry. There's no reason you should ever forgive me, but… I hope that one day maybe you can. I don't… I don't want to lose you forever, Dean. Call me or text or something. Even if it's just to tell me what an ass I am, okay? At least let me know you're okay. I… I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean was shivering with pain and rage by the time the message was over and before he could think better of it he texted Cas, _Fuck you. I am not okay_. And then, because he didn't want Sam and Jess to hear him falling apart, he threw on some clothes and went down to the street. He walked a block, trying to pull himself together, but then his phone rang.

Without looking, he knew it was Cas. When he finally checked, he saw Cas’ picture, the one Dean had taken some lazy Sunday. Cas had been lying naked in bed, taking a nap, when Dean had crawled onto the bed with him. He'd taken the picture over Cas’ naked shoulder, his eyes half-lidded and sleepy, one corner of his mouth pulled up in a barely there smile. Seeing it made his heart clench and pressing 'decline' broke the tenuous grip he had on his composure.

He sank down to a crouch and sobbed, pressing his hand over his mouth. Everything he'd been trying to repress for the last week came pouring out and the sobs wracked his body. He didn't know how long he'd been there for when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but he didn't look up.

"Please leave me alone."

"I can't leave you out here like this, Dean," Sam said, and the gentleness in his voice made Dean feel like a fool, crouched on a sidewalk crying his eyes out over a guy he'd been sleeping with for a month. "It's alright, though," Sam said and sat down next to Dean. "I'm prepared to sit out here with you. It's a nice night."

"Aw, come on, Sammy," Dean whispered. "Don't make me feel like more of an asshole than I already do."

"You're hurting, Dean. That doesn't make you an asshole."

"Sobbing like a baby does," he said and Sam punched him in the arm. "Ow, what the hell?"

"Don't be a jerk," Sam said.

"Bitch," Dean said reflexively and they stared at each other for a moment before dissolving into laughter. Dean shifted so he was sitting properly and wiped his face, which was throbbing and felt hot and swollen.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" Sam asked finally and Dean shook his head.

"No, I'm not. Suffice it to say that Cas and me are over." He looked down at the ground and heard his own words echo in his head. It sounded so final.

"I'm sorry," Sam said.

Dean took a shaky breath and nodded. "Me too." His voice broke and he cleared his throat. "Me too," he said again. "You know what's stupid? I really thought he was the one. I was ready to go full picket fence with him."

"You were in love with him," Sam said, not a question.

 _Oh God, so very much_ , Dean thought. Out loud he just said, "Yeah."

They sat in silence for a while after that, Dean accepting the silent comfort his brother offered. Finally, by some silent agreement they both stood up, dusting the debris from the sidewalk off their legs.

"I'm proud of you, Sam," he said suddenly. "You're a lawyer, you're about to get married to an amazing woman, and you're a good man. You turned out good."

Sam smiled at him, his eyes full of affection, and said, "You did, too."

Dean tried to protest the hug he saw coming but there was no dodging it. And after a second of being squeezed, he relaxed against his brother's body and let himself be supported, even if it was only for a moment.

"Thanks, Sammy," he said when they broke apart and Sam put a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you, too, Dean. For everything."

Dean mumbled something indecipherable and they started back for Sam and Jess' apartment. They snuck in quietly and Dean went back to his room and stripped down to his boxers. He still hurt, but he felt a little better. Saying out loud that he Cas were done hadn't been easy, but it helped him accept it a little more.

He didn't check to see if Cas had left a voicemail.


	9. That what you mean?

"Ready?" Dean asked as Sam ran his hands back through his hair, smoothing it down for the millionth time.

"Yeah, I think so." A panicked look came into his eyes. "Do you have the rings?"

"I've got the rings, Sam. Relax." He adjusted Sam's tie and boutonniere and then slapped him on the shoulder. "You look great. Come on, it's time to get married."

Sam grinned and Dean grinned back, his brother's obvious joy infectious.

"I'm getting married," he said and Dean laughed.

"Yeah, you are."

They left Dean's room and Dean drove them to the hotel where Jess and Sam were tying the knot. Guests were already starting to arrive and Sam milled around, chatting with people while Dean found the Justice of the Peace who was performing the ceremony and made sure everything was in order. The setting was stunning. They were on a deck that extended out over the water and the sun was heading toward the horizon. The ceremony would be painted in beautiful hues of orange and purple.

Dean stood by Sam's side as the ceremony started, his breath taken away at how lovely Jess looked in her gown. The ceremony was short and beautiful. Dean could see how Sam couldn't take his eyes off his new wife. It made his heart ache, thinking about Cas, but he pushed it aside and was truly happy for his brother.

At the reception he danced with Jess and then Sam, much to everyone's amusement. Several of the bridesmaids were hitting on him hard, especially the maid of honor, and he finally had to tell her that she was barking up the wrong tree. After that she conscripted him into helping her find suitable prey, but he found many of the men here to be generic, blonde Californians. It made him long for dark brown hair and scruffy cheeks. God, he couldn't believe how much he missed Cas.

A guy started hitting on Dean late into the night and Dean considered it, to take his mind off Cas again, but the thought just left him feeling empty, so he begged off and went up to his room alone. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the pics he had of Cas – Cas laughing, Cas brooding, Cas licking the neck of a beer bottle. There were several selfies of him and Cas together, kissing mostly. Dean flicked through them all, feeling sad and lonely. Cas was supposed to be here with him. He wasn't supposed to have fucked it up so badly.

Unwilling to go down that rabbit hole again, he put his phone down and arranged the pillows against the headboard so he could watch some TV before he went to sleep. He found a station playing Resident Evil and half watched it as he went through some emails from work. There were a couple from Cas, but he deleted them without reading them. Dean had told Benny to take over Cas’ project, so any communication about the house should go to Benny, which meant they were personal and Dean didn't want to see them.

He shut his computer down and turned off the lights before settling back against the pillows to finish the movie. He wondered if he'd see Cas when he got back to Lawrence, if they'd run into each other. He wondered, not for the first time, what Cas was doing right now, what he'd done the week Dean had been in California. If he was hurting as much as Dean was.

When he finally turned off the TV, it took him a long time to fall asleep.

:::::::

The next day was an exercise in frustration. His eight am flight was cancelled and the next flight he could get was a connection through Chicago of all places. Why the fuck they would fly from California to Kansas via Illinois Dean had no idea, but if he wanted to get home before Monday, it was his only choice. He cooled his heels in LAX for seven hours reading two trashy mystery novels he picked up in a bookstore. By the time he arrived at Chicago it was seven and he was starving. He found a place serving deep dish and whiled away his two hour layover there by watching a game on the TV and nursing a few beers. He finally landed in Kansas City at ten forty-five, but his luggage, of course, did not. His bags, he found out, had never left California. They could be on a flight to Kansas City in the morning. Dean didn't give a shit. He filled out the paperwork and trudged out to his truck to make the hour long trip back to Lawrence. All he wanted was a scotch and a hot shower – in that order. He was completely unprepared to see Cas sitting on his porch when the light from his headlights swept across the façade of his house.

He turned the truck off and sat there for a long time, getting himself together before he had to talk to Cas. Finally he got out and pulled his carry-on out of the bed before turning toward the porch.

"You were supposed to get here almost twelve hours ago," Cas said tiredly and Dean snorted.

"Tell me about it. What are you doing here, Cas?"

"I wanted to talk to you in person, apologize for…" he lifted a hand from his side and then let it drop.

"For humiliating me in front of my crew? For making me feel like dirt? For using what we shared together to make me feel worthless? That what you mean?" Dean had thought he was calm, but his voice rose steadily until he was shouting. "Because let me tell you, Cas, I'm not particularly interested in anything you've got to say to me."

Cas had dropped his gaze after Dean started talking and he rubbed a hand over his face now. "I know it was unforgivable," he started but Dean cut him off.

"That's right, Cas. It was _unforgivable_ , so get the fuck off my porch."

Cas looked up at him, his eyes wide and pleading. "Dean, please. Give me a chance to explain."

"Cas, I gave you a whole god damn week. The whole time you were in Wichita, dealing with your dead parent or whatever, I begged you to tell me what was going on. Even before that, I gave you so many openings to talk to me about whatever was going on with you and your mood swings and… and your drug use." He saw Cas flinch like he'd been slapped and knew he'd hit home with that one. "But you never once wanted to talk about it. You never wanted to explain. So no, Cas. I gave you plenty of chances, you don't get another one now."

Dean moved to brush past him, but Cas grabbed his arm.

"Please, Dean," he said, his voice wet and broken. "I love you. I can't lose you."

Dean's heart broke to hear Cas say 'I love you' now, finally, when things were broken beyond repair.

"Cas," Dean said, his throat tight. "I can't. You… what you said, the hate in your voice when you said it. I can't forget that. Now please let me go." Cas’ fingers tightened on Dean's arm for a moment and Dean repeated, "Please."

Cas let go and took a step back; Dean turned and walked up the steps to his door.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas’ voice broke behind his back and Dean bowed his head.

"I know you are, Cas." He let himself into the house and closed the door without looking back. He dropped his carry-on and leaned back against the door. "Fuck," he breathed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

He pushed away from the door and headed for his kitchen and his scotch. He poured himself a generous shot and threw it back, grimacing as he swallowed. He poured again and swallowed it down. He thought he'd be ready to see Cas but he wasn't ready at all. He was feeling everything at once – hurt, anger, longing, sadness and he had no idea what to do. Cas had looked terrible, dark bags under his eyes, the scruff on his cheeks moving into actual beard territory, his hair flat and greasy. Dean wanted to call him and tell him to come back so he could just hold him but he was also so pissed that he just wanted to punch him in the face.

He started to pour himself another glass, but decided to give up on that and tilted the bottle directly into his mouth. He stood at the island for a long time, taking swigs from the bottle, feeling the heat from the alcohol racing through his veins already. He looked at the bottle, realizing it was already half empty and groaned because he knew this was heading someplace ugly. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Jody.

"This better be really good, Dean," she said.

"Just saw Cas," he slurred. "I'm being self-destructive." He wasn't sure the words all came out right but Jody seemed to get it because she told him she'd be right over.

When she got there she found Dean sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor, leaning against the cabinets.

"What happened?" she asked and Dean looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes.

"Cas," he croaked. "He was waiting for me when I got home."

"Alright," she said and slid down to sit next to him before reaching over to take the nearly empty bottle away from him. "Tell me the whole story because last time we talked, seeing Cas wasn't something that would cause this reaction."

And because Dean was exhausted and drunk he spilled the whole story, starting with Cas’ trip to Wichita and ending with their meeting on Dean's porch.

"Oh honey," she said and put her arm around his shoulders. He sunk down so he could rest his head on her shoulder. "Clearly something was going on with him. You should talk to him."

Dean lifted his head from her shoulder and looked at her reproachfully. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"I am on your side. But this isn't about sides. This is about you two being perfect for each other," Jody said and Dean scoffed.

"Did you miss the part where he totally fucked me over?"

"No, no, I heard it. But he's just lost a parent. You know that fucks people up."

"I gave him so many chances to talk to me, Jody, and he wouldn't. And then he goes and pulls that shit." He tried to get up off the floor because he didn't want to be down there anymore but he couldn't make his legs work. Jody stood and helped him up and then started leading him toward the stairs. "I loved him Jody and he hurt me so much."

"I know, Dean," she said. "But I think maybe you should hear him out. You know it's not easy to talk to people when you're going through something difficult. He crossed a line, Dean, but I think you should give him a chance to make it up to you."

Dean grunted but didn't say anything. Jody maneuvered them upstairs and took off Dean's shoes before pulling the covers over him.

"Thanks, Jody," he said, grabbing her wrist as she started to straighten up.

"You're welcome, Dean. I'll call Beth for you in the morning. Take the day off, you'll need it."

Dean groaned and started to drift off to sleep. He was semi-aware of Jody coming back into the room with a glass of water and some aspirin. She forced him to sit up and swallow four aspirin and then let him collapse onto the bed for good. She turned out the light and brushed the hair back from his forehead before turning to leave.


	10. Excuses or Explanations

Dean didn't wake up until nearly eleven the next day, his head pounding, mouth dry. He lay there for a little while, feeling absolutely fucking miserable, until he had to bolt for the bathroom. He puked until there wasn't anything left and then he dry heaved, leaning over the bowl. When he was pretty sure he was done, he lay down on the floor because it was cool and his bedroom was so far away and fell asleep. When he woke up a little bit later he felt slightly more human. He pulled himself up from the floor and into the shower, making it as hot as he could take it. He soaped himself up, rinsed, and then stood under the water, breathing in the steam. For a second he was afraid he was going to puke again, but he swallowed and the nausea passed.

He didn't bother to dress when he got out of the shower, just dried himself off and then face planted in his bed again. He wasn't completely preoccupied with his hangover anymore, so his mind turned to last night, seeing Cas, downing a whole bottle of scotch, calling Jody.

His eyes snapped open at that. Jody had come over, he remembered that much, but what had he told her? He fumbled on the nightstand for his phone and called her.

"Morning sunshine!" she yelled and Dean pulled the phone away from his ear.

"I fucking hate you," he said when he brought the phone back.

Jody chuckled. "Sorry I couldn't resist. So, are you feeling about how I imagine?"

"Worse." He paused and then said, "So listen. What exactly did I tell you last night?"

"I knew you wouldn't remember any of my helpful advice," she said and Dean rolled onto his back and covered his eyes with his hand.

"I told you everything," he groaned and she hummed in agreement. "I didn't mean to. I wasn't going to tell anyone."

"Oh? Why?"

"Because…" Because he didn't want anyone to know the full extent of his humiliation, but he also didn't want anyone to hate Cas for what he'd said. "Because it's private."

"Uh huh," Jody said, sounding deeply unimpressed and like she could see right through him. Maybe she could. Maybe he'd told her why he didn't want to tell last night. "And since you've obviously forgotten it, my excellent advice from last night is still excellent. Call him. See him. Let him explain what happened."

Dean was silent because that's not what he'd been expecting. But the thought of calling Cas, listening to him explain…

"I don't want to hear excuses."

"Explanations aren't always excuses," Jody said. "Dean, one of his parents died. I said this last night, but… I know he crossed a line, but give him a chance to explain."

"I don't know for sure that one of his parents died," he said and Jody squawked, "What?!"

"I just knew something big was going on, something that was taking an emotional toll on him and I just sort of decided that a parent had died."

"Oh my god, you are ridiculous. Dean, call him. Hear him out. If it's a lame excuse boot his ass to the curb. If it's not… maybe you can find it in yourself to forgive him."

"I don't know if I can," Dean said, finally dropping his hand from his eyes.

"All you can do is try. As long as he's deserving of it."

Dean thought about it, the silence stretching out between them. What Jody said felt right, but he still felt so hurt. He took a deep breath. "I'll think about it."

"You've got to do what's best for yourself, Dean. But I think you should give him a chance."

"Thanks, Jody."

"No problem, kiddo. Call me if you need anything."

"Just a new liver," he muttered and she laughed.

"I'll keep my ear to the ground."

They hung up and Dean looked at the clock. Jesus, it was nearly one thirty and he was still lying in bed. Moving slowly he got up and pulled on a t-shirt and pair of sweats before heading downstairs. He drank some orange juice and took some ibuprofen and then pulled out the menu for the place that had the most fried foods. He ordered chicken wings, mozzarella sticks, and a small pizza and then sat on the couch feeling sorry for himself until the delivery guy showed up.

At the smell of the food is stomach came to life and he ate everything, the greasy food making him feel heavy and dull, but it soaked up all the alcohol and he felt the most sober he had all day. He poured himself some more orange juice and turned on the TV but didn't really watch it. He was thinking about Cas and what Jody had said. Did he want to hear Cas out? Now that his anger had faded somewhat to the background he realized he did. Even if it wasn't good enough to explain what had happened at the worksite he wanted to know what was going on in Cas’ head. And, he admitted, he wanted to know what had happened in Wichita.

He turned his phone over in his hand a few times, still debating the wisdom of this decision, but then he woke it up and called Cas.

"Dean?" Cas answered, like he couldn't believe Dean was actually calling him.

"Hey, Cas," he said softly, the hope he heard in Cas’ voice killing him. "So I wanted to, uh… I wanted to see if you wanted to come over tomorrow so we could talk."

"Yes," Cas said immediately and then as if he sensed he might sound overeager said, "If you want. If you're ready."

Dean chuckled. "I don't think I'll ever be ready but I want to. I want to hear you out."

Cas made a choked sound. When he spoke his voice was wavering. "I didn't think you'd ever want to. After last night I… I was sure I’d never see you again."

"Last night that's exactly what I intended, but Jody suggested I let you explain what was going on."

"I need to buy her a fruit basket," he said and Dean smiled despite himself.

"I'm not promising anything," he warned.

"No, I know. I just… I need you to know why I was so fucked up that day," Cas said, his voice holding and edge of desperation.

"I'll listen to everything you have to say, Cas. Why don't you come over around ten."

"I'll be there. Thank you, Dean. I know I hurt you and I know you don't have to do this."

Dean rubbed his chest because when Cas said it like that, 'hurt' didn't seem like a big enough word. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, cutting the connection before Cas could respond. He wondered if he'd made the right choice, asking Cas to come over, but a sense of closure was looming around him and he knew he had. For good or for ill, tomorrow would be the end of this chapter of their lives. Whether they started a new chapter together after all was said and done, hinged on what Cas had to say.


	11. Nothing to do with music

Dean woke up early the next day, already feeling anxious about seeing Cas later. He went for a long run, trying to burn through his nervous energy, letting the familiar rhythm calm his mind. When he got home he took his time taking a shower and eating breakfast. He checked his email, called Beth and then Benny, taking care of some things that needed his attention. By the time he was done, it was nearly ten and he started pacing around his house, the nervous energy back. When the doorbell rang, his heart nearly leapt into his throat, and he ran his hands through his hair as he headed toward to front of the house.

When he opened the door, Cas was standing there, looking as nervous as Dean felt, wearing his worn, dorky [Beethoven t-shirt](http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/61VSBLjjTVL._UX385_.jpg). Dean knew it was one of Cas’ favorite shirts and a corner of his mouth pulled up in a small smile.

"Hey," he said and Cas smiled nervously.

"Hi." He seemed like he was about to say something else, but then just settled on "Hi" again. He shook his head. "I sound like an idiot."

"You get a pass," Dean said stepping back. "Come on in."

"Thanks," Cas said and stepped into the foyer. They stood there for a moment, not really looking at each other and Cas finally said, "Jesus, this is awkward."

Dean let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "Let's go to the living room."

He gestured for Cas to go ahead of him and followed after him. God he wanted to touch him so badly, feel the thin cotton of his stupid t-shirt and the warmth of his skin beneath. He wanted to brush his lips over Cas’ freshly shaved cheek, smell his aftershave. He shoved those thoughts out of his mind and sat on the opposite end of the couch from Cas. He looked better than he had the other night; though there were still pronounced dark circles under his eyes, his hair was clean and the beard had been shorn.

"You haven't been sleeping," he said, turning and sitting cross-legged so he could face Cas directly.

Cas was sitting at the other end of the couch, staring absently at Dean's TV. "No. The last couple of weeks haven't been particularly easy. Part of that was my own fault." He sighed. "Thank you for letting me come over."

"How about you just tell me what's going on with you," Dean said and Cas nodded.

He was silent for a while, looking down between his knees. Finally he looked up, still not looking at Dean.

"I told you there were twelve of us, but, uh, there are really only eleven now. My little sister Anna," his voice broke and he licked his lips. "Anna and I were only ten months apart; we were inseparable. When we were little, we had our own language." He laughed. "It drove our mother _nuts_. Anna was so beautiful, so smart and vibrant. And so talented. She played cello with the Wichita symphony and taught at Wichita State. I loved her with everything in me. When I was questioning my commitment to become a priest, Anna was the one who listened to me, who helped me through my crisis of faith. She was younger than me, but she was always far more mature than me, wiser. She's the one I would have talked to about fucking things up with you…"

Dean remained quiet, letting Cas tell the story at his own pace. He wondered if it was Anna who had just died. But… something about the way Cas was talking made it seem like she'd died a while ago. Cas visibly shook himself and started again.

"When she was thirty three, she met a man and fell in love. She was so happy. He was a firefighter, had nothing to do with music, which was just what she wanted. I was her matron of honor," he said, smiling at the memory and Dean laughed.

"Did you have to wear the dress?" he asked and Cas shook his head.

"She let me wear a tux.” A sad smile tugged at his lips. “They were perfect together. For a long time they were perfect, but it… I don't know, it went sour. Every time I saw her she seemed more withdrawn, more unhappy, but she wouldn't talk to me. I knew something was wrong, we all did, but none of us did anything." Cas rubbed his forehead and Dean could see that his face was tight. "She… she, uh…" Cas clasped his hands together and pressed them against his lips. Dean's heart was pounding, hoping against hope Cas wasn't going to say what he thought he was going to.

"I was her emergency contact for the University. They called me after she didn't show up for lessons for the second day in a row. As soon as they called me, I knew, I knew…" His voice caught and Cas’ whole body went tight, his face pulled into a grimace as the pain of the memory took him.

"Jesus, Cas," Dean said and moved closer to him, put a hand on his shoulder. Cas’ whole body was shaking with suppressed sobs and Dean wished there was something more he could do, but he knew there wasn't. He'd lost his father to a stupid, drunken accident and he knew that there was no comfort when remembering the loss. "Let me get you some water," he said and got up off the couch.

Once in the kitchen he leaned against the counter, the shock of what Cas had just told him finally catching up to him. He'd been expecting cancer, maybe a freak heart attack or stroke or something but not that she'd been…. Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth, unable to even form the thought, and turned to the cabinet to get a glass for Cas. He filled it with water and went back to the living room.

He sat much closer to Cas this time, close enough to touch, and handed him the water. Cas glanced up at him quickly and Dean could see that his eyes were wet. Dean put his hand back on Cas’ back and rubbed gently up and down, offering what little comfort he could. Cas drank half of the water in one go and set the glass down on the coffee table. When he sat back he put his hand down on the couch next to him and Dean capitulated to the silent request, moving his hand from Cas’ back to twine their fingers together. Cas’ breath caught and he closed his eyes, squeezing Dean's hand briefly.

"I found her in the closet," he continued. "She must have tried to hide from him. She had… there were…" He touched his chest. "He sh-shot her s-six times. They caught him less than a week later and he went to jail. We buried Anna and I came back to Lawrence. Naomi was here and I just wanted to get back to work, I wanted… I wanted to forget." He squeezed Dean's hand hard. "I wanted to forget what she looked like on the floor of that closet, after sitting there for f-four days. Because I knew it was partly my fault. I sh-should have known. I _did_ know," he said, sounding so angry. "I knew and I didn't do anything. Even after… we had a standing call on Sunday nights and she missed it. She m-missed it and I didn't do anything. I didn't… I should have done something."

"Cas, you couldn't have done anything," Dean said, his heart breaking, hating that he was falling back on platitudes, but what else was there? "This wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, I know. I've heard it from my whole family," Cas said. "Doesn't change how I feel." Cas reached for his water with his free hand and finished it. "About a week after I got home I broke my back," Cas said and then fell silent. Dean waited him out, sitting silently, holding onto his hand. "I was on a site. A beauty of a house on East Forsyth." He paused. "That was the last place I worked on with Bobby, actually. I didn't get to see it finished because I was laid up in the hospital. Bobby brought me pictures. Were you working for him then?"

Dean shook his head. "No. I was working with an architectural firm in Kansas City, Missouri. But I remember him telling me about you, now. He never mentioned your name, but he told me about someone who'd fallen off a ladder."

"I live in infamy," Cas said with a smile, but he sounded bitter.

"What happened?" Dean asked and Cas bit his lip and laughed shortly.

"I was being stupid. I was taking down some shutters, and I'd taken down one side, but I didn't want to move the ladder to take down the other side. So I had one foot on the ladder, the other on a windowsill." Dean hissed in a breath and Cas smiled. "Yeah. It was an old house; the windowsill crumbled under my foot. But the thing is, Dean. The thing is… I think I could have stopped myself from falling. I think… I think I wanted to fall. I think I thought that that would be it, I'd fall, my head would go splat and I'd be done. I think… I thought it would give me peace." Dean squeezed Cas’ hand, clutching it in both of his. "But all I did was destroy my body. I broke three vertebrae and fractured my skull. It took me a long time to recover from that. Surgeries. I was in the hospital for a month. I had the worst headaches for a long time. Still do sometimes. I needed the oxy they gave me, I really did. The pain was… it was unimaginable. But the oxy… If you haven't ever taken it, Dean, you can't appreciate how good it makes you feel. It took away all my pain. _All_ of it. And I took it because my body was in pain, but I _kept_ taking it because my soul was in pain. I don't need it anymore, really. There's no real pain anymore from my back unless I overdo it on a worksite. But if I don't take it, I _imagine_ pain. It's all psycho-fucking-somatic but God it feels real. The brain is a really fucked up place."

"Tell me about it," Dean said and Cas glanced at him again.

"Next time I think story time belongs to you."

"Sure," Dean said. "I'll regale you with totally ordinary tales of how my alcoholic father didn't take care of us. Newsflash at eleven!"

"You deserve to have someone hear you tell it," Cas said and Dean froze. He'd lived his entire life thinking his story was ordinary enough. He certainly never intended to tell it to anyone because it was base and banal and didn't deserve the light of day. All the fear and pain he'd experienced as a kid was long behind him, he thought. But having Cas offering to listen… He realized he'd been doing exactly what he'd been pissed at Cas for this whole time. Cas hadn't wanted to share his burden because he felt guilty and Dean felt the same way. He hadn't told Cas anything about his father, about how he'd had to protect Sam from his rages. About how his father had died.

"Yeah," he said, his voice thick with unshed tears. "Maybe I do. But right now this is about you."

"Right." Cas looked down again. "No one knows about the ladder thing. About… about my half assed attempt at suicide."

"You don't still want that, do you, Cas? To die?" Dean asked because he needed to know.

Cas was silent for a while. "I don't know," he said finally and Dean's heart seized. "No, that's not true. I do know, and I don't, but the trial knocked me out of true and then I said those hateful things to you…" Cas started, but Dean was hung on up a detail.

"The trial?" he asked, and Cas tensed again before he slowly nodded. "For your sister's murderer," Dean finished.

"Yes," Cas said, imbuing the word with more pain than Dean thought was possible.

"You were in Wichita for his trial," Dean said, everything coming together in his head, and Cas nodded jerkily. "God, Cas," Dean said, pulling one of his hands from Cas’ so he could push the hair back from Cas’ forehead. "You had to testify."

Cas sputtered. There was no other word for it. He obviously didn't want to cry but there was too much emotion to hold in. Dean pulled his other hand from Cas’ so he could wrap his arms around his shoulders and pull him in close. Cas clung to him, sobbing.

"It was supposed to be open and shut," Cas said against Dean's chest. "But they, his attorneys, found something, I don't know, and then I…" His fingers dug harder into Dean's sides and Dean held him tight.

"It's alright, Cas," he murmured and Cas practically convulsed against him in an effort to pull away, but Dean held on.

"It's not alright, it's… He's _free_. He's free because I showed up to court high on fucking pills because I couldn't fucking _deal_." Cas finally ripped himself free from Dean's arms and sat there breathing hard, his hands clenched on his thighs. "I knew I'd lost control of my drug use, but it wasn't too bad. It wasn't too bad, Dean. I was dealing." Dean thought of all the mood swings and thought Cas was fooling himself but he didn't say anything. "But then her trial went south and I… I thought it would steady me, but instead it made me into a fucking idiot and I blew the whole fucking thing. And so now that motherfucker is _free_ and I'm fucking stuck here with this… this _hole_ in my life."

"The jury decided Friday morning," Dean said, the last piece slotting into place. Cas didn't have to say yes, was incapable of it anyway. Dean pulled him back against his chest, overcoming Cas’ resistance. He wanted to tell Cas he was a fucking moron, that they could have avoided all of this, but he kept quiet and just held Cas against him, stroking him, murmuring comfort. Cas held on for dear life, letting Dean comfort him, but eventually he pulled back.

"I'm so sorry I treated you like that, Dean, that I made you feel worthless." He brushed his fingers along Dean's jaw and Dean put his hand over Cas’ and turned his head to press a kiss to his palm.

"I'm not going to say it's okay, but I understand why it happened."

"Do you…" He licked his lips nervously. "Do you forgive me?"

Dean took a deep breath and squeezed Cas’ hand. "I can’t, Cas. Not yet," he said softly and Cas closed his eyes. “I’m still hurting.

"I understand." Cas started to pull his hand from Dean’s, accepting the rejection, but Dean held on.

“No, Cas, listen to me. I’m going to try, but it’s going to take some time. And you’ve got to do your part.”

Cas turned his head away from Dean. “I know.”

"Do you?" Dean asked, shifting, ducking his head so he could catch Cas’ eye. "Because I'm not doing that again, Cas. I can't. And this whole shitstorm basically comes back to one thing."

Cas rubbed a hand over his face. "I _know_." He sighed. "I know, but I don't know where to start."

Dean slid his hand over Cas’ shoulder and then over his neck, his fingers brushing through the hair at his nape. "Start with your doctor. Start with yourself, start with me. I don’t know, either, but it has to be first, Cas. I can’t… We can’t be together if you’re not off the pills.”

Cas nodded and lowered his head into his free hand, threading his fingers through his hair. “I know,” he said again. “I’ll stop, I swear.”

He wanted to tell Cas that it wasn’t going to be that easy, that he knew what addiction was like when it got its claws into people, but he took in Cas’ posture, full of exhaustion and defeat and decided now wasn’t the time. They were going to discuss it plenty in the days and weeks to come, but it warmed him to know that they would be facing it together.

"Come on,” he murmured. “You look like you could use some sleep.”

Cas huffed a laugh. "Like you wouldn't believe."

Dean stood and led Cas upstairs. He undressed him slowly, chastely, and then gave him a pair of sweatpants before pulling Cas into the bed with him and covering them both with the covers. He spooned up tight behind Cas and Cas gripped Dean's forearm where it circled his waist.

"Is this real? Am I going to wake up alone in my own bed?"

"Not unless you break out of here and run back home," Dean said and squeezed him tight. "It's real Cas. You're with me and I love you so fucking much."

Cas turned a little in Dean's grip to look at him. "Say that again."

"I love you," Dean said simply, honestly, and Cas reached up to tangle a hand in Dean's hair.

"I love you, too, Dean. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but god I love you so much." Cas’ fist tightened in Dean's hair and pulled him down into a kiss. It was heated, but before long Cas’ exhaustion took over.

"Sleep, angel," Dean said as Cas drifted away.

Dean pressed his face against the back of Cas’ neck, wondering at how close he'd come to losing this, to losing Cas. He peppered Cas’ neck and shoulder with soft kisses as he fell asleep. And Dean couldn't see, but Cas’ lips curled up into a secret, happy smile as he drifted off.


	12. Do you want that

Dean didn't know what time it was when he woke up, only that the light slanting through the windows was burning orange. Cas was a hot, heavy weight in his arms. Dean brushed his nose through Cas’ hair, breathing in his scent. He thought about everything Cas had told him, about his sister's murder, about the trial of the man who'd killed her, and how he'd gotten off. Dean wondered what he'd do if Sam were ever murdered, if he were the one to find his body, and his blood ran cold at the thought. He thought he'd lose his mind. And then he thought about Cas’ confession, about falling off the ladder on purpose. His arm tightened around Cas unconsciously, his fingers brushing over his skin, and Cas stirred.

He groaned softly and then looked around the room. "What time's it?" he asked groggily.

"Don't know," Dean answered and kissed Cas’ shoulder. "Sleep good?"

Cas hummed and turned in the circle of Dean's arms. He reached up with one hand to brush his fingers through Dean's hair and then leaned in to kiss him but Dean pulled back.

"Wait," he said softly, noticing the fear that passed over Cas’ face. "Cas, I just… I need to know something. To be sure."

"Okay," Cas said, but the sleepy languor in his body had been replaced with a fine tremor of tension.

"The ladder, your… your suicide attempt. You're not… do you still want that? Because you didn't really seem sure when I asked you earlier, and…" He swallowed. "I can't… I need to know."

"No," Cas said softly, relaxing again. "I don't want to die, especially now. When I fell off that ladder, Anna had just died and I was lost. My marriage with Naomi was already basically over and I felt so alone." He touched Dean's face. "I don't feel that way now."

"Okay." He laced his fingers with Cas’. "Okay, that's good."

"There's something I need you to know, though," Cas said, propping himself up on his elbow so he could look more fully at Dean. Dean's brow drew down and Cas ran his thumb over the crease there. "Relax," he said. "I know that what I did, what I said… I know you probably don't trust me right now, that it'll take you a while to trust me again, and I know I did that to you, to us. But I promise you, Dean. I promise that I will stop the drugs. I will do whatever it takes and I will earn your trust back. Whatever it takes, Dean," he said fiercely.

Dean searched Cas’ face for a long moment, reading his sincerity there and his commitment.

"I believe you," Dean said. He still felt the ache where Cas’ words had torn him apart, but he wanted to forgive Cas, wanted the ease of their relationship back. He ran his hand up Cas’ arm and into Cas’ hair. "I'm trusting you to keep your promise."

Cas’ mouth quirked up in a half smile. "I'm not a complete idiot. I'm not going to fuck this up again."

"Definitely not a _complete_ idiot," Dean said, a smile of his own forming. He hoped Cas would keep his promise because he wanted this, wanted Cas pressed warm against him, smiling at him, for the rest of his life. That thought was no less scary than the first time he'd had it. It was actually scarier since their future was so uncertain, but as he looked into Cas’ blue, blue eyes, he felt like maybe they'd be okay. He pulled Cas down into a kiss and Cas settled his weight onto Dean, his fingers skirting up and down Dean's side.

"I'm scared, Cas," he admitted when the kiss ended, eyes closed, forehead pressed against Cas’.

Cas’ hand found Dean's and he threaded their fingers together. "I am, too. I'm so scared of failing you." He pushed himself up again and Dean opened his eyes to look up at him. "But I am going to work as hard as I can to make sure I don't."

Dean thought about how hard Cas worked on the worksite and couldn't help a soft snort. "Then I think everything's going to turn out alright." Cas’ answering smile lit up Dean's whole world and Dean kissed him again before shoving him off. "Now come on. I'm starving and you're buying me dinner."

"I can do that," Cas said, laughing. They both changed into their clothes and left the house in Cas’ Wagoneer. "Fried chicken," Cas said and Dean nodded.

"Absolutely. Do it up."

They drove in silence for a while but at a red light Cas looked at Dean and held his hand out. Dean took it and squeezed.

"I love you," Cas said, his eyes shining.

The corner of Dean's mouth pulled up in a smile. "I know."


	13. For Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an epilogue. Approximately a year after Dean and Cas met...

"That is not going to work for me, Bela," Dean said, putting a hand over his eyes. Bela knew her antiques, but Christ was she a pain in the ass.

"Look, Dean," she said in her insufferably superior tone. "These sconces came from the eighteen thirty-two Governor's mansion and they are extremely desirable. I've got a buyer in Colorado who's exceedingly interested, but I know you had a client who was interested in them and since we've come to such agreeable arrangements in the past, I wanted to give you first right of refusal."

"You want seven thousand dollars for them," Dean sighed, dropping his hand.

"Yes, I do," she agreed and Dean could _hear_ the smug grin in her voice.

"Alright, let me talk to my client."

"Wonderful. Talk soon."

Dean hung up and flipped off the phone.

"You know they can't see that, right?" Charlie said as she bounced into his office.

Dean rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "I'm aware."

"If you want I can set you up with a video conferencing system," she started and Dean held up his hand.

"No thanks, you're already bleeding me for enough money for all this network crap." Dean had hired Charlie a little over two months ago to update his computer system and ended up hiring her for more because not only did she really know her shit, he liked her a lot. Then she'd met Cas and Dean knew he was sunk because they were two peas in the proverbial pod and somehow they ended up ganging up on him frequently. Not that he really minded because it usually involved a lot of giggling from both of them and watching Cas giggle, his nose wrinkled and eyes squinting, had become one of Dean's favorite things.

"Dude, you had no firewall when I got here, so I don't want to hear it." Charlie leaned over his desk. "Go check out your website!"

"Is it done?" Dean asked, opening the browser and typing in the url.

"No, I wanted you to see the old version that's been up there since Clinton was president," she said and Dean lifted an eyebrow at her.

"Someone's saucy today."

She turned to sit fully on his desk and kicked a leg out. "I'm high from writing some really great code."

Dean snorted and shook his head. He hit enter on the url and then breathed, "Wow."

"Looks great, doesn't it?" Charlie beamed. "My friend Gilda did it. It's got a client portal where they can manage their project, a nice new gallery of past jobs, list of subcontractors. And, most importantly, it's clean and modern. People will now believe it's run by someone who's in his early thirties rather than someone in their sixties."

"Alright, alright, I get the point," he said, shoving at Charlie. "The old site was outdated. Tell Gilda she does great work."

"Oh, I will," Charlie said with a grin and Dean laughed. "New conquest?" he asked, reaching for his phone which started buzzing in his pocket.

"Hopefully," Charlie said and hopped off his desk. "Alright, I've got some more work to do. Smell ya later, nerd."

Dean flashed her the Vulcan greeting as he read the text he got from Cas.

_Got time to meet me at Ohio St. right now?_

Dean's curiosity was immediately piqued. Cas had held on to the Ohio Street property for seven months. It was on the market, but as far as Dean knew, the offers that had come in had been rejected. Cas had told him they'd all been low balls and shrugged it off. In the meantime, he and Cas had restored and sold two more houses.

 _Be there in about 20_ , he texted back and slid his phone back into his pocket. He pulled on his coat and trudged through the four inches of fresh snow on the ground, grumbling as he brushed the snow off his truck. He wondered what Cas wanted to talk about at Ohio Street... He was constantly fussing over the place, wondering if some tweaks would make it sell better. Dean humored him, even when he didn't think the improvements would help the resale, so he wondered what it would be this time. But he was happy to do it simply because it made Cas happy.

They'd just passed their eighth month together and Dean felt so deeply content that sometimes he felt the urge to pinch himself. Cas had dropped the oxy cold turkey. It had been a little touch and go for a while as Cas tried to find his equilibrium without the drug, but he'd run a lot, taken up _yoga_ , and talked. It was obviously hard for him, but he would sit down with Dean and tell him what he was thinking and feeling, even when it wasn't nice. And somehow, it had rubbed off on Dean and he found himself telling Cas more than he'd ever told anyone about his childhood. There had been some rough times, but they fought for each other and had found their equilibrium together. Cas had even dragged Dean to yoga a few times.

He pulled up in front of the house on Ohio and parked behind Cas’ Jeep, hurrying into the house to get out of the biting wind.

"Hey, Cas!" he called as he entered the foyer and he heard Cas moving upstairs.

"Hey, hi," he said as he came down the stairs and Dean was forcefully reminded of the first time they'd met, nearly a year ago.

"Hey, hi, yourself," he said, pulling Cas in for a kiss as soon as he was within reach, feeling a sudden deep swell of affection. He'd never expected to love anyone as much as he loved Cas and he felt so grateful for it all. "So, what are we doing now?"

"Mm," Cas hummed. "I'm glad you asked. Follow me."

Cas started up the stairs and Dean wondered where they were going. When Cas turned toward the master bedroom he grew incredulous. That room and the en suite were perfection. Cas stopped just inside the doorway, his fingers stroking his chin thoughtfully. Dean tried to step back and look at the room with his contractor's eye, but still couldn't find anything to improve. The floors were lustrous and the bay window with seating they'd added opened up the room and let in tons of light.

"Cas you can't be serious," he said finally. "There's nothing to do in here."

"Well," Cas said, considering. He pointed to the far wall. "I thought our bed could go over there. Couple of night stands, lamps, rug. Over here we could do a chest of drawers, but I think I'd actually prefer a dresser. I can think of a lot of reasons a mirror directly across from the bed would be fantastic. What do you think?"

Dean was staring at him, his mouth hanging open a little. "Are you… are you asking me to move in with you?"

"No, asshole," Cas said, turning to face him. "I'm asking you to marry me."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "You're _what?_ "

Cas sighed. "Fine, if you're going to be high drama about it…." Dean was about to protest that his reaction was _completely normal_ and not in the least high drama, but the words dried up in his throat as Cas dropped to one knee and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small velvet box and opened it before lifting it toward Dean.

"Dean Winchester, will you marry me?"

Dean stared at the ring in the box, a simple platinum band, and then shifted his gaze to Cas. His mouth moved but he was so shocked that no sound was coming out. Cas was starting to look a little unsure, so Dean dropped to his knees. He brushed Cas’ outstretched arm aside so he could sink his fingers into Cas’ hair and pull him into a kiss.

"Yes," he smiled when he drew back, finally finding his voice. "I'll marry you." The words felt strange in his mouth. "I'll marry you," he said again because he couldn't quite believe he was saying them. "I'm going to marry you."

Cas put his free hand against Dean's cheek, smiling. "Alright?"

"You want to marry me?" Dean had somehow envisioned a life for them that never included this, but now that Cas had asked, he realized he'd never thought anyone would _want_ to marry him.

"I've had designs on your bachelorhood for a while now, Dean. Yes, I want to marry you. I want to be your husband."

"My husband," he said, starting to feel slightly giddy. "Holy shit." He stared at Cas, grinning like an idiot and then he remembered something. "Where's that ring?"

Cas laughed and held up the box again. Dean picked up the ring and stared at its perfect surface before holding it out to Cas. "Aren't you supposed to put this on me?"

Dean could see that Cas’ fingers were trembling as he lifted the ring from Dean's palm. He watched avidly as Cas held his left hand and slid the ring on his finger. Cas looked up at Dean, tears shining in his eyes.

"I like how that looks," he said and Dean closed his fingers around Cas’ hand.

"Me, too. We need to get you one."

"I might already have it set aside at the jewelers," Cas said and Dean laughed. "But I figured we could wait and you can put it on me when we get married."

Suddenly it hit Dean. "Oh my fucking God, you mean married _for real_."

Cas looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Yeah. That a problem?"

"No, no, it's just…" He suddenly felt short of breath. "We _can_. Even in Kansas."

Cas grinned. "Thank you Justice Kennedy."

Dean sat back on his heels feeling like he'd just been on a roller coaster and then looked around the room. "We're home," he said.

"Yeah," Cas said. "Our home. That we rebuilt together. I knew this house was special when I first laid eyes on it."

"I wish our house had a bed because I'd really like to get naked with my fiancé right now."

"I'm on board with that," Cas said and stood, offering his hand to Dean. "Your house isn't that far away."

Dean took Cas’ hand, the light catching his ring as he did so, and stood. "Were the offers on this place really low balls?"

Cas shrugged. "They might have been fair market, but they were low for what I thought it was worth."

Dean laughed and led Cas from the room. "You're a sentimentalist."

"Maybe, but I imagined sharing this place with you pretty early on. I imagined what it'd be like to raise a kid here."

Dean stopped halfway down the stairs and turned to face Cas. "You want kids?"

"We can talk about it." He pressed a kiss to Dean's lips. "Now come on, we're not getting any closer to your place just standing here."

They locked up and crunched their way through the snow that had fallen while they'd been inside. Dean caught Cas’ hand as they reached the sidewalk and pulled him close. They stood there for a moment, pressed together, breathing each other's breath, and then Dean turned his head to look at the house.

"I never thought all this would be for me," he said, meaning marriage and a house together. Cas squeezed him.

"I can't wait to spend my life with you," Cas whispered against his ear and Dean's breath caught. "And everything can be for us."

Dean liked the sound of that. He smiled at Cas.

"For us."

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are love!


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